


These Little Things That Bind Us

by orphan_account



Series: Match Bursting into Flame, Garden Bursting into Life [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cop/Gangster AU, Friends to Lovers, Gang AU, M/M, Organized Crime AU, Undercover Agent AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-01 02:53:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 76,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>All of a sudden, there’s a voice at his ear. “How’re you doin’, mate?”</i><br/><i>Liam jumps about a foot, but somehow manages to stay balanced on his barstool without spilling a drop of his drink. He needs to calm down if he wants to avoid attracting any attention from Malik and his cronies. Steeling himself, he squares his shoulders and turns to face the voice. And then he actually does spill his drink. All over the shirt of one Niall Horan.<i></i></i><br/>Liam lives a comfortable life; he works as a policeman, and his lovely girlfriend has just moved into his flat. However, everything changes when he's assigned to go under cover and gather information about a rising star of London’s criminal under world, Zayn Malik, and his ragtag band of criminals.  This band just happens include a cheery, fair haired Irishman who quite literally charms the pants off of Liam and, before he knows it, Liam finds himself facing a choice between love and duty.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Undercover Operation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around to uploading chapters 1-9 of "These Little Things That Bind Us" to this fic, which had previously only contained chapters 10 and 11. So now it's all in one place for you to enjoy. All further updates will occur here. Thanks!
> 
> Obviously this is a work of fiction and the following events are not meant to represent real life. Also, I don't know a ton about London's police force/gangs/geography.

Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep. Bee-

Liam slams his hand down onto his alarm clock and rolls over face-first into his pillows. He groans into the white linen. “God fucking dammit. Too fucking early.” Mondays are the worst. Why does he even bother getting out of bed at six every morning?

“Liam! Are you awake up yet?” A high voice trills from the other side of the apartment. Danielle. Oh yeah. That’s why he gets up in the morning.

“Yeah,” he croaks, raising his head up from the pillows. No response from the kitchen. Rolling over onto his back, he roughly clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, babe. One minute."

“Hurry up, love! Today’s a big day for you!”

“Yeah.” Liam rubs his buzzed hair distractedly and then freezes. “Wait, what? Why is a today a big day?” Again, there was no response from the kitchen. “Danielle?” he calls out. Sighing, Liam heaves himself up and leans over the side of the bed, fishing for his underwear. Sliding on his boxers, he stands up from the bed and pads into the kitchen. He smiles absently at the scene awaiting him; his girlfriend, Danielle, stands with her back to him at the stove, frying sausages and humming under her breath. Thank God for Dani.

“What’s all this for? And why is today a big day for me?” Sliding up behind her, he slowly wraps his arms around his waist. “Did you say that just to get me out of bed? Or…” Liam trails off and leans in close, whispering into her ear. “Was that some sort of euphemism for morning sex? Because now that you’ve officially moved in, we can have all of the morning sex we want.” Laughing, Dani swats at him distractedly and tucks a tuft of curly hair behind her ear.

“Shut up. And no, today is actually a big day for you at the department.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Liam asks, nuzzling her absently behind her ear.

Danielle twists around in his hold and leans back to look him in the eyes. “Liam, you know that I can’t tell you. Now back away from the stove before you hurt yourself.”

“What’s the point of shagging one of my higher ups if I’m not even privy to special information?” Grinning, Liam pulls Danielle even closer, fingers slipping down from her stomach to grip her hips instead. She rolls her eyes at him, laughing in spite of herself.

“Oooh, ‘privy.’ Have you been brushing up on your vocabulary, Officer Payne?” Danielle wriggles out of his embrace and unceremoniously shoves him back towards the bedroom. “And go take a shower! You smell horrible. The sausages can wait.”

Liam grins and raised wriggles his eyebrows at her, not so easily deterred. “I’ll only shower if you agree to join me….it’s your shower now too, after all. We should properly christen it. The sausages can definitely wait.”

“Liam, if we’re late…”

“Yessir Sarge, I know. I promise it’ll be quick.” Danielle rolls her eyes and finally allows him to drag her from the stove. Giggling, the two stumble back towards the bedroom.

 

“Alright men...and women…quiet down,” Commander Cowell barks at the rowdy room full of cops. Liam rolls his eyes and irritably taps his notebook with a pen. The man is such an insufferable hard ass. Noticing Liam’s exasperated expression, Danielle smiles gently at him from her position next to Cowell.

“You may be wondering why I’ve brought you here this morning. I’ll cut straight to the chase.” Could the man sound any more like a character out of a bad detective movie? Liam struggles not to roll his eyes again. It’s still too early for this.

“Due to the recent austerity cuts, we’ve been forced to let some of you go. The Metropolitan Police Service would like to thank you all for your loyal and steadfast service….alright, aright. I am kidding.” Groans resound through the room. Such a hard ass.

“Not funny!” calls the officer sitting next Liam. That’s not going to go over well.

Commander Cowell frowns back at the man. “Well, no, you’re just funny looking, aren’t you, Officer Grimshaw?” Grimshaw flushes and Liam bites back a laugh as he briefly makes eye contact with Danielle for the second time in the span of as many minutes. Shifting in his seat, Liam looks pointedly away. They’re going to have to tone it down if they don’t want others to know about them. He’s pretty sure that Grimshaw already suspects, the nosy bugger.

“Anyway, down to business. As our liaison to the Serious Organized Crime Agency, Sergeant Peazer has been authorized to brief the department on an investigation that SOCA would like to carry out with our help.” The Commander holds up his hands as the many of the officers in the room once again raise their voices in protest. “I know, I know. SOCA generally tends to trample all over our investigations and royally cock everything up. But that’s why they’ve come to us. You know. So that they don’t…cock everything up. This time. Ahem. Sergeant Peazer, if you would.” The Commander sits back down, awkwardly tugging at his suit.

Danielle smoothly unfolds herself from her chair and stands up liquidly, facing the group. She’s as calm and collected and the Commander is flustered. “Thank you, Commander. Officer Cameron, could you please open my power point?”

“Already loaded up, Sergeant. Let me just turn on the projector....here we are.”

“Thank you. Now, as the Commander said, our friends over at SOCA have reached out to us and requested our help with one of their latest investigations.”

The projector flickers on, revealing the first slide of her power point. Almost immediately, an audible murmur rises up from her audience.

“Who is that?” Liam whispers to Grimshaw. A young man in a leather jacket with an angular, aristocratic face and large, almond brown eyes sneers out at them from under an impressive head of thick, black hair. Even in the unflattering mug shot, it’s clear that he’s uncommonly good looking. Liam’s not usually attracted to men, but he thinks that he might be able to make an exception for this kid.

Grimshaw cocks an eyebrow at him. “Jesus, have you been living under a rock, Payne? How do you not know…”

“Settle down, please. Many of you may know who this man is.” Danielle indicates the image projected onto the screen and then clicks to the next slide. This picture has a lower resolution, and it seems to have been taken through a long range lens. The man was now standing on a curb outside of a club, wearing the same leather jacket, eyes narrowed as he lit a cigarette.

“For those of you who don’t, this is Zayn Malik. He may look like a harmless uni student, but he’s actually quite the ruthless little gangster. Up until a couple of months ago, he was running with a gang largely made up of low level thugs, but he seems to have gotten into some sort of disagreement with its leadership. He recently purchased a bar without any kind of financial backing, which raised all sorts of red flags for our colleagues over at SOCA. We believe that he’s intending to use the bar to launder money to bankroll his various….unsavory activities. Any questions so far?” A woman seated at the far end of the conference table raises her hand. “Yes, Officer MacMurrough?”

“Even if this Malik character is trying to establish his own little money-laundering enterprise, why does that bother SOCA so much? If he got kicked out of that gang you mentioned, then he’s starting out on his own. He can’t get into that much trouble by himself.”

“That’s the thing. Mr. Malik may be many things, but alone is not one of them.” Danielle clicks to a new slide. This image appears to have been taken from the same vantage point as the prior one; in this shot, Malik is joined by three other men. Liam studies the picture, head cocked slightly to the side. Even if Malik is as hardened of a gangster as Danielle seems to believe he is, the group of young men doesn’t look particularly threatening. In the picture, a tall curly-haired boy is leaning down as a shorter boy lights his cigarette. Malik has his arm casually slung around the shoulders of the third man, whose blonde head is tipped back in laughter.

“I understand that some of you may think that these men do not look like they pose a significant threat to the people of London,” Danielle flatly states, eyes flickering to Liam as if she is able to hear his doubts. “But I can assure you that Malik and his friends have the potential to become important players on the organized crime scene in London. The boys over at SOCA are particularly concerned by this group’s close ties to a couple of big time dealers. We don’t need these kids putting any more heroin out onto the streets of London.”

Danielle pauses and looks around the room. With the mention of heroin, the mood has become considerably more serious, and many of the officers are now nodding along in agreement. “Briefly, here’s what we know about his associates.”

She clicks to a mug shot of the shorter boy. He grins cheekily out of the picture, a fringe of fine brown hair swooping down across his forehead. “This is Louis Tomlinson, Malik’s right hand man. The two grew up together in Hackney. So far, he’s lived a relatively unimportant life full of petty crime. However, he is suspected of committing several violent assaults against members of the Met.” Several growls rise up from the audience, and Liam narrows his eyes. He remembers this little shit. He had nearly beaten Liam’s last partner, Tom, to death but the officers assigned to the case hadn’t been able to gather any solid evidence against him. Bastard.

“He’s the most volatile of all of Malik’s contacts, and definitely one to watch.” The next mug shot is of the tall, curly haired boy with the wide green eyes. Liam stifles a chuckle in his fist. A gangster with dimples? Danielle has got to be kidding.

“This is Harry Styles. Like Tomlinson, he has a history of violence. He is also a serious player on the drug scene, and has been arrested several times for the possession of hard drugs with the intent to distribute.”

Danielle clicks to her last slide. “Finally, this is Niall Horan.” It’s the blonde man who had been laughing in the group shot. Still shielding his mouth behind his fist, Liam smiles wryly. The kid was obviously pretty tanked in his mug shot, his jaw gaping open haphazardly as he squints at the camera. Liam squints back….does he look familiar? He shakes his head. Of course he doesn’t….he just looks absolutely pissed. When Liam had worked at the drunk tank over near Lower Clapton he had seen hundreds of guys in a similar state.

“We only have a mug shot of him because he was arrested a while back for getting into a bar fight. Other than that, he’s a Boy Scout. We don’t quite know what his connection to this group is, but according to intelligence from SOCA he’s often seen with them so we should assume that he has some knowledge of their criminal activities.”

Danielle motions to Cameron to turn off the projector. “So, as to why we’re gathered here today. As you can tell from my presentation, the boys over at SOCA haven’t been able to gather much information about Malik and his friends. They’ve reached out to us and asked us if we would be willing to send one of our officers in as an undercover agent to infiltrate their little budding gang.”

An excited murmur sweeps through the room. An undercover posting would bring immediate prestige to any officer, and such postings were far and few in between.

“This is an extremely dangerous and challenging assignment, but I know that our unit is up to the task. After careful consideration, Commader Cowell and I have decided to select Officer Payne as….”

The rest of Danielle’s words are lost to Liam as blood roars through his ears. An undercover assignment?


	2. Coming to Terms

Liam stumbles blindly out of the station, fingers trembling. The rest of the meeting had passed by in a blur of sights and sounds as his heartbeat had quickened and his senses had sharpened. He had quit smoking years ago, but goddamn he could use a cigarette right about now. Bloody hell.

“Liam! Wait!” Danielle barrels out of the door behind him, a mass of panicked, frantic limbs and flying hair. “Liam! Please, stop!”

“What?” He whirls abruptly on his heels, glaring back at her. How had she not warned him about this? Sure, she had hinted at it this morning in the kitchen but he had thought that she was just being playful. He hadn’t thought that he was going to be assigned to an undercover fucking mission. Weren’t they supposed to tell each other everything?

“Liam, I’m sorry,” Danielle pants, finally catching up to him. She reaches out towards him, trying to placate him, but knows better than to touch him just yet. “I really am. But you know that I couldn’t tell you. I’d get into trouble if the Commander knew that we were sleeping together, let alone living together, and I’d get into even more trouble if I leaked sensitive information to you. It would place both of our careers at risk. You know this. Please, Liam. We’ve talked about this, babe.”

“Don’t call me ‘babe,’ Sergeant,” Liam snarls back. He rarely loses his temper, but now he can hardly see straight.

“That’s not fair, Liam.” Danielle looks up at him, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She pulls her hand back and looks uncertain of herself for the first time. “Please,” she repeats, quieter this time. “I’m really sorry.”

Liam sighs and looks around. No one else had followed them outside. Good. He reaches back and pulls Dani into an alley, and then pulls her gently into his arms. He never can stay mad at anyone for very long, and her soft brown eyes always manage to make him crumble. “It’s okay,” he whispers into the top of her hair. He tightens his arms about her and feels her wrap her arms tentatively around his waist in response. “It’s okay,” he repeats. “I was just caught off-guard and I overreacted.” He heaves out another sigh and feels her melt against his body.

“I should be apologizing to you. I know that our relationship puts you in tough position. I’m such an ass. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Danielle murmurs back. “Are we alright?” She leans back to look him in the eye. He tries to hold her gaze, fails, and glances nervously away. His fingers are still shaking.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. This mission will be fine. It will all be fine-”

“Liam,” she cuts across his nervous stream of chatter. “Calm down.” She steps out from the circle of his arms and grips both of his hands firmly in her own. “You can do this. Commander Cowell and I chose you for this mission for a reason. The whole department believes that you can do it.”

Liam pulls a hand away from her and runs it agitatedly through his cropped hair. It seems silly to him that hours earlier he had similarly been rubbing his head over the everyday agony of getting out of bed. “Way to put the pressure on, Dani,” he jokes, his humor belying his anxiety. Only a slight tremor in his voice reveals his real feelings.

She smiles fondly up at him and answers back seriously, “I believe in you Liam. I love you. I know that you can do this.” Smirking, she lightly slaps his chest with her free hand. “Besides, you’re the only officer in the whole entire Met who can blend in with such a hip crowd. You’ll fit right in with Malik and his boys. You have the youth, the tattoos, the muscles…” She squeezes his well-defined bicep and he drops her other hand, bashfully stepping away from her.

“Wow, thanks Sarge.” This time, there’s no stinging sense of insult accompanying the title, and Danielle knows that they’re going to be fine after all.

“You’re welcome. Now, are you ready to go back inside? Commander Cowell and I need to brief you on your upcoming mission, Officer Payne.”

“Yes. But you’re taking me out for a beer tonight. And you’re paying, Sarge.” Dani just smiles up at him in response. Liam briefly hugs her again and then follows her out of the alley and back into the station. Dani’s right. She always is, which is why he loves her so much. He can definitely do this. He’s going to be an undercover cop, just like Leonardo fucking DiCaprio in that movie he watched one time. Except that he won’t get shot. Hopefully.

 

“Jesus H. Christ.” Across town, a short blonde boy staggers across an empty bar and drops an armful of wooden crates onto a dirty floor of weathered planks. “I don’t know how Zayn thinks we’re going to have this shithole up and running in a week,” he mutters to himself. The old owners had somehow managed to tear down the walls before they had vacated the property, exposing the large industrial pipes that gurgled behind the frame of the building. Zayn had said that they added a rustic feel to the ancient building, but it was just like Zayn to say something stupid like that.

“Aw, Niall. You know I love how Irish you sound when you get angry. It just brings out your lovely, lilting brogue.” Niall jumps and curses at the sound of another voice. He turns in a full circle, but doesn’t see anyone else. Has it gotten to the point where he can actually hear Zayn in his head now? Well, he had known that he was going to lose his mind sooner or later if he remained in the man’s infuriating company.

“Shut it about my ‘brogue’, Malik. Where the hell are you?”

Zayn Malik pokes his head through a hole in the ceiling and grins down at his friend. “Suppose that we’re going to have to patch this up before we open, hmm?” He asks, plowing on before allowing the visibly irritated blonde to answer. “Though it would make for a very convenient peephole. I could have an office up here and look down through my floor whenever I want to know what’s happenin’ downstairs.”

“No, we agreed that I would live above the bar. I’m tired of sleeping on your lumpy old couch,” Niall shoots back immediately. He’s hot, dusty, and tired, with no patience left for his dark haired friend. He had dragged these damn crates around the whole damn city all day. Zayn just had to have those particular light fixtures for his bar, and of course Zayn couldn’t be bothered to go pick them up himself.

“You could sleep in my lumpy old bed with lumpy old me, instead,” Zayn jabs back half-heartedly. As expected, Niall ignores him. Zayn and his bed are still touchy subjects with the younger man. With both of them, really. Maybe Zayn shouldn’t have brought that up. They had finally decided that, among other things, Niall should stop sleeping in Zayn’s bed. Zayn grimaces and pulls his head back through the hole. Idiot. Why does he always stick his foot in his mouth? Serves him right for trying to be clever, he thinks bitterly to himself.

Minutes later, Niall hears him clomping down the back staircase. He enters the large, barren room through a door behind the bar and sidles up to the blonde. “You ready to call it a day, mate?” He says it as casually as if he hadn’t just mentioned the very large elephant in the room. “You look like you could use a shower and some shut eye.”

“Yes to both,” Niall declares, finally sparing Zayn a genuine smile. “We can just install these bloody things tomorrow. Specialty light fixtures. I swear.” Zayn grins back at him sheepishly.

“Sorry, mate. I have a vision.”

“A vision for a bar that’s gonna be a front for your drug business? Right,” Niall snorts, looking fondly at Zayn. “Have you seen Harry today?” he continues, changing the topic of conversation so quickly that Zayn just blinks at him for a couple of seconds.

“No, I’ve been playing around with numbers all day. Bloody exhausting, that is. I haven't got a head for figures like you do ,” Zayn finally replies.

“I’m just a bit worried about him.” Niall kicks gently at the corner of one of the crate, avoiding eye contact. “I know that he and Louis have hit a rough spot-”

“When have they not hit a rough spot, honestly?” asks Zayn. He leans over and ruffles Niall’s hair, hoping that the blonde doesn’t notice the cracks in his smile. Niall doesn’t need to know that Harry’s been on a bender for the past three days, although he probably suspects as much. Niall isn’t an idiot, and he’d grown up quite a bit in the past year.

Zayn hasn’t been able to reach Harry since Tuesday. Whenever that happens, Harry is usually holed up having sex with Louis like they’re a couple of newlyweds or he’s off trying to score smack on the streets. Since Louis hasn’t heard from Harry either, Zayn can safely assume that it’s the latter. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Niall,” he continues, forcing his smile to remain on his face. The cracks just widen instead. “He’ll turn up sooner or later. He hasn’t failed to do that yet.”

“But what if this is the time that he doesn’t turn up?” Niall asks anxiously. Niall notices the cracks in his smile. Of course he does. He’s Niall, and he is Zayn. Niall will always notice these things.

Zayn drops the pretense and frowns at him. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now we should be crossing the bridge of you having a proper shower. You smell like a bloody farm animal.”

“Because you had me running around London all day to fulfill your bloody vision,” scoffs Niall. “And that didn’t even make sense.” Nevertheless, he grins up at Zayn, his concern for Harry momentarily eased. “I’ll shower at yours and then we can order some takeout. And then call Louis? Maybe he has heard from Harry from by now.”

“Whatever you want, kid.”

 

“Of course I haven’t heard from Harry,” Louis squawks into the phone. Niall winces and holds his phone away from his ear slightly. “I kicked him out of the flat when I found out that he was shagging that low level scum bag dealer over near Park. The idiot cuts his shit with shit, did you know that? If Harry’s going to cheat on me, it should at least be for some good shit.”

“That made no sense, Lou,” Niall says. Shaking his wet hair and absentmindedly brushing at the towel slung low around his hips, he looks over to where Zayn is flipping through takeout menus on that bloody lumpy couch. He moves closer to the window and lowers his voice, not wanting Zayn to hear him. He knows that Zayn will poke fun at him for worrying so much about Harry, as if Niall’s worrying hadn’t saved all of their asses at some point or another in the past year. Ungrateful jerk.

“What I’m saying is,” Louis huffs, “I kicked Harry out of the flat because he cheated on me again. I mean, I was cheating on him too, but he fucked Mickey.”

Niall wrinkles his nose. Even amongst the drug dealers and thieves that they kept company with, Mickey O'Toole really was scum. And Louis was right, his product wasn’t that good. Certainly not good enough to warrant Harry abandoning Louis. Or Louis abandoning Harry. Or whatever the fuck had happened this time. The two of them really were impossible to deal with.

“Regardless of who he may have fucked, Louis, he needs your help. You know that he does.”

“It gets old, Niall. Looking after him get so bloody old.” Louis’s sighs echo across the airwaves. “Last year was so hard on us,” he says, his voice softer, weary. “It almost fucking killed him. It almost fucking killed me.”

“But it brought you closer together, didn’t it?” Niall challenges him.

“Yeah. I guess it did. I just don’t want to take care of an addict going through withdrawal again. That shit is exhausting, mentally and physically.”

Emotionally, Niall silently corrects. He looks back over at Zayn, who had put down the takeout menus at some point and was now staring at him intently. “Right, well, I gotta go, Louis. I’ll talk to you later. Put down the phone and go find your boy.”

“I will.” Louis heaves another sigh. “I’ll text you when I’ve got him back at the flat.”

“Don’t hesitate to call if you need us,” Niall replies absently. Zayn really shouldn’t be looking at him like that. They had agreed that Niall was sleeping on the couch now, after all.

“Us? Did you just refer to yourself and Zayn as us? Niall-”

“Goodbye, Louis,” Niall interjects quickly. “Good luck.”

“He hasn’t heard back from Harry yet, has he?” Zayn asks. Niall walks back over to him and plops down beside him on the couch, carefully adjusting his towel. He places his cellphone on the little table next to the couch before replying.

“No, but he’s going to go check all of Harry’s usual haunts. He’ll text us when they’re both safely home.”

“Good.” Zayn looks up at the ceiling and stretches his arms above his head. Niall doesn’t look at the dusky strip of skin exposed at the top of the other man’s jeans by his movements. He really doesn’t. He’s sleeping on the couch now. “Pizza or Chinese?” Zayn asks. Niall starts and is suddenly aware of how little skin his towel actually covers.

“Er, Chinese. Definitely Chinese. Order whatever. I’m going to go get changed. And then we can eat Chinese food. Yep.” Niall lurches up off the couch and into the bathroom. Zayn watches him go, the left corner of his mouth turned up slightly. He pulls out his phone and, before calling for takeout, texts Louis. Let us know if you want help finding Harry.

Louis’s reply comes back almost immediately. Us?

Zayn shakes his head. Louis fucking Tomlinson. He should probably order that food now. What was it that Niall had said that he wanted? Zayn had been too distracted by that skimpy towel.


	3. Not That I Deserve It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Description of an addict undergoing withdrawal.

The next day, Liam finds himself in a small conference room at the station with Danielle, Commander Cowell, and a SOCA agent. “It’s great to meet you, Officer Payne. I’m Sergeant Kellen. But you can just call me Randy.” Of course Liam won’t call him that.

“I’m sure you’ve already been told that I’ve been assigned to help you adjust to life as an undercover agent. These next couple of weeks of transition will likely be very stressful, and I’m here to help in any way that I can.”

Liam nods and smiles at the man. He seems pleasant enough. The fact that he’s going to be living a double life in a couple of days still hasn’t quite sunk into Liam’s head yet. Last night, Dani had bought him drink after drink as he slowly became increasingly maudlin. She finally had to drag him out of the bar and back to their flat at around 1 a.m. in the morning as he loudly yelled things about South Boston and rats and Frank Costello. He needed to stop watching so many American gangster movies.

“We’ve prepared a flat for you over in Hackney, close to Malik's bar. You’ll be moving in two weeks from now. In the meantime, you and I are going to work on constructing a personal history for your new identity. In order to successfully operate as an undercover agent, you’re going to have to live as this different person for days at a time. Therefore, you need to take ownership of every aspect of this new identity,” Sergeant Kellen lectures.

Liam nods and smiles impassively again. It all sounds a bit like bullshit to him. “Owning” his new identity? Is this guy a psychologist or a SOCA agent?

“So far, the only thing set in stone is that you’re a university drop out by the name of Liam Parsons. We’ve arranged for you to work at a coffee shop close to your new flat, since Officer Peazer said that you used to work in one and you know your way around an espresso machine.” The man pauses awkwardly and laughs. Was that supposed to be a joke?

“Like you, Liam Parsons is from Wolverhampton. He’s just moved to London, which is why he has no friends.” Sergeant Kellen slides an unkmarked manila folder across the table to Liam. “This dossier contains what I’ve just told you, as well as some blank space for you to record any additional details about your undercover persona. You’ll want to keep everything about Liam Parsons as close to the reality of your own life as possible; we don’t want you freezing up and forgetting your cover story while talking to Malik and his associates. An added benefit is that you won’t have to memorize a ton of new information, which frees up time for you and Sergeant Peazer to observe Malik during these next two weeks.”

“Observe, sir?” questions Liam. With Dani? he silently adds.

“Yes, Officer Payne. We don’t know much about Malik’s daily life. It’s important that you be one of the observing officers so that you can learn about his behavior firsthand before interacting with the man. After we gather some more information about his schedule and his associates, we will ascertain how to best place you in his life.” Jesus, the man really does talk like a psychologist. A professor of psychology, even.

Commander Cowell clears his throat and leans across the table to address Liam. “We’ve assigned Sergeant Peazer to temporarily be your partner since she is already up to date on this case and has received clearance to participate in this investigation from SOCA. And because you’re currently lacking a partner, thanks to Louis Tomlinson.” Tom had healed from the injuries inflicted on him by the thug, but he had not yet been cleared to return to active duty. Liam understood that there was some problem with his psych evaluation. Getting beaten up in a dark alley by an unprovoked maniac could certainly disturb one’s mental state. Poor Tom.

“I understand, sir,” Liam replies, resisting the impulse to look over at Danielle. Observing Malik with her at his side would allow the two of them to spend more time together before he would have to move out of their flat and assume the identity of Liam Parsons. However, if being romantically involved with one’s superior is frowned upon, being involved with one’s partner is even more so. This point was drilled into all of the cadets’ head during training, and Liam had heard countless stories about officers who had placed themselves or their partners in danger because of such illicit relationships. He’s not so sure that he would be able to keep a clear head if he were ever in a dangerous situation with Dani. Liam shakes his head to rid himself of such thoughts. They were going to have to make it work.

“Once you go undercover, Sergeants Peazer and Kellen will be the only contact that you have with the force,” Commander Cowell continues.

Sergeant Kellen nods. “You’ll provide myself and Sergeant Peazer with weekly reports via a burn phone.”

“A burn phone, sir?” Liam repeats.

“Yes,” answers Sergeant Kellen. “If Malik become suspicious of you, he will likely hack into your email, landline, and cellphone.”

“He’s a hacker in addition to being a gang leader?” Liam incredulously asks, impressed in spite of himself.

“Not really. But I doubt that he lacks the means to hack into your laptop or tap your phone lines. Thus, a burn phone is safer and more secure. Other than these weekly reports, you are discouraged from contacting us unless you have vital information of a time-sensitive nature, or if you’re in danger. ” He pauses and looks Liam squarely in the eyes. “This may be difficult for you. Many undercover agents report feelings of loneliness and the like. You may be undercover for a few weeks or a few months.”

Liam steels himself and asks the question that he’s been too afraid to ask so far. “What if I’m undercover for longer than a few months, sir?”

Commander Cowell and Sergeant Kellen exchange a look. Kellen clasps his hands together and coughs nervously. “Some of our agents have remained in deep cover for years at a time. However, you have not formally been screened and trained as an undercover agent. That said, the amount of time that you will spend undercover depends on how quickly you ingratiate yourself with Malik and his cronies. At the most, you will be spending nine months to a year undercover.” A year? Shit, thinks Liam. A year of living by himself in a strange flat, with no human contact other than a band of violent criminals. Great.

Kellen and Commander Cowell once again exchange looks, and Kellen reluctantly continues, “If it turns out that you have to spend longer than a year undercover, we will reevaluate the case. However, we don’t anticipate-”

“Wait, so you’re telling me that I could be undercover for more than a year? Err…sir?” Liam interrupts. He can feel bile rising up in the back of his throat. Don’t. Panic.

“It’s…..unlikely. Unlikely, but possible.” This time, Danielle replies.

“Officer Payne, we will try to adequately prepare you during these next two weeks, and, once you go undercover, we will give you all of the support that we can,” Commander Cowell says encouragingly. “You’re not the first officer that we’ve sent undercover, you know. Sergeant Kellen and I know that you’re going to do an excellent job.”

 

A couple of hours later, Danielle and Liam are in an unmarked squad car watching Zayn Malik as he sits at an outdoor café across the street from them.

“Suspected gangster Zayn Malik really seems to enjoy espresso drinks. Should we include that in our report?”

“Liam, I can tell when you try to hide your feelings behind your sense of humor. You can't fool me. You’re still nervous, aren’t you?” replies Danielle.

“Of course I am! Bloody hell, Danielle. A year undercover? More than a year?”

“I don’t know what to tell you that I haven’t already told you.” Danielle reaches over and holds his hand. “This is going to be challenging for you…hell, it would be challenging for anyone, but you’re going to be fine. Just like we discussed yesterday. Okay?”

“Okay,” he replies. He leans over to kiss her and then thinks better of it. They may be living together, but he was going to have to try to think of Danielle as his partner and only his partner during the coming months. “I bet that you’re excited I’m going undercover. You’re going to have our flat all to yourself. You better not paint it pink or buy houseplants or anything like that.”

Danielle narrows her eyes and looks at him accusingly. “Hey!” Liam holds up his free hand. “I’ll admit it, you were right. I’m hiding my feelings behind lame jokes. Was that at least a litte funny?”

“No,” snorts Danielle. “I would never do that. Obviously, I’m going to paint the flat purple and buy a turtle.”

 

Zayn leans back in his chair at his favorite café, sipping a latte as he mulls over which supplier he wants to purchase his bar’s first shipment of heroin from. The bar’s slated to open in a week, and he wants to begin selling product as soon as possible. Zayn runs through the list of possibilities in his head. Thomason is often unpredictable, but his supply is of a higher quality. Still, the last time Zayn had seen the man, he had pulled a knife on him. Zayn frowns absently. Maybe Lloyd was a better bet. When Zayn had worked for Paul, an established crime boss, Lloyd had always delivered product to them promptly and without complications. Paul had once said that Lloyd was one of the most professional drug traffickers that he had ever worked with. Professional is good, thinks Zayn. He has ambitious plans for his first purchase as an independent distributor, and a professional supplier would make it easier for him to distribute heroin quickly and efficiently.

And then, of course, there’s the question of who he wants to distribute the heroin to now that he’s planning on expanding his business. He needs some middlemen other than Harry and Louis. Zayn frowns again and taps the table, taking another sip. Ideally, he needs reliable dealers who already have established customer bases, but he doesn’t want to step on the toes of any other distributors. A turf war is the last thing that he needs. Best to delegate the task of finding reliable dealers to Louis, perhaps. He has enough to deal with already. Which supplier is he going to buy from? Thomason or Lloyd?

His cell phone rings and interrupts his reverie. “Hey, Louis.”

“Zayn! I’m glad I caught ya. I found Harry late last night….or, errr….early this morning? He’s back at our flat now. I don’t want to leave him alone…he’s in a bad state. Withdrawal and all that shit. But I’m bloody starving. Could you pick up some food for me? I’m still stocked up on medicine and shit from the last time he went on a bender, but we could really use some carbs.”

“Sure thing, Lou. I’ll even do you one better…I’ll stock up on some groceries and come cook you a meal. I’ll bring Niall with me, too. He’s so worried about Harry that he’s been practically vibrating out of his skin.”

“Yeah, I got that when he called me yesterday. But sounds great, mate. I owe you one.”

“No problem,” answers Zayn. “I’ll see you soon.” He hangs up the phone and finishes his latte. He’ll have to buy pasta, tomato sauce, lettuce, some bread...

As Zayn walks down the street, absorbed in making a list of things to buy and still thinking about suppliers and middlemen, he fails to notice the dark sedan that peels away from the curb and follows him.

 

“Hey, Harry,” Niall whispers as he leans down to kiss the brunette’s sweaty mass of curls.

“Louis?” Harry grunts, shifting in his damp sheets. He’d been having the most terrifying dream. In it, he had been lying down on some filthy couch in an unfamiliar flat. His vision was blurry, but he could just make out large, messy block letters of black scrawled across the wall, spelling out the words “Fuck! the system.” He’d been staring at the graffiti, trying to understand the meaning of the odd punctuation (was it there to emphasize the word “fuck?” or was the person who’d written it simply exclaiming that a system existed?) when he’d heard gunshots. At first he’d started, but then relaxed again as he remembered that he’d be alright if he died in a dream. Silly Harry. All of a sudden, light blue-gray eyes partially obscured by a fringe of fine, brown hair had appeared directly in his field of vision. But now, as he blinks the sleep from his eyes, he’s looking up at a shock of bright blonde hair instead.

“Shhh, shhh. It’s Niall. I didn’t mean to wake you up, Haz. Go back to sleep.”

“Niall?” Harry murmurs, still not fully awake. “Where am I?”

“You’re in your bed. You were on a bender. Louis found you and brought you home.” Not a dream then. Interesting.

“Ugh, Niall, I’m gonna-”

“Here, here’s the bucket-”

Harry leans over the side of his head and vomits into the proffered trashcan. Nothing comes out but stomach bile and clear fluid. He must have been vomiting earlier, either in his sleep or when he was too drugged to realize. Or maybe he hadn’t eaten recently. Thinking back, Harry can’t remember the last time that he’d eaten. Certainly not within the past couple of days.

“Fucking hell,” he gasps out, continuing to dry heave.

Niall pats his back. “It’s alright. Let it out. You’re already starting to go through withdrawal, I think. The come down’s gonna be intense this time-you did a shit ton of drugs. Speed, heroin, who knows what else. You’ve been sweating buckets. You’ll probably get the shakes soon,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Fever?” gasps Harry as he continues to heave.

“Lou said that it already broke, which is a good sign. He also said that it’s been hard keeping you hydrated since you aren’t really keeping water down right now,” Niall replies, still stroking his back soothingly.

“Clearly,” Harry says, still gagging. “But I’m not going to the hospital for an I.V.”

“Try to drink some more water then.” Niall picks up a cup from the bedside table and offers it to Harry. Harry sits up a bit straighter and takes it, grimacing slightly as he sips it.

“There you go,” Niall murmurs encouragingly.

Harry’s stomach gurgles in protest to the water, and he puts the cup back down after a few sips. “Methadone?” he asks, looking carefully away from Niall.

“Lou already dosed you up.”

“Good,” Harry sighs, gingerly laying back down. “That will help. Would you mind getting me some aspirin?” He pauses, and then asks quietly, “Actually, could you send Louis in with it?”

“Louis’s sleeping on the couch right now. Zayn and I came over to cook him dinner, but he conked out before he could even eat it. He spent all of yesterday afternoon and night looking for you, and he was up all day today making sure that you didn’t choke on your own vomit.”

“Oh.”

Niall smiles gently at him and runs his fingers through the other boy’s curls. “Try and get some more sleep now, yeah? Your body needs the rest. Louis will still be here when you wake up, and so will I.”

“Not that I deserve it,” Harry grumbles into his pillow, already falling back asleep.

“Oh, Harry,” Niall sighs, touching his friend’s cheek.

When Zayn looks in a few hours later, Niall’s sitting serenely in a chair at the head of the bed, watching Harry as he sleeps. “Niall,” he whispers. Niall looks up, his eyes hooded and tired. “I’ll watch over Harry. Lou’s still sleeping on the couch, but I found some extra blankets for you if you want to sleep in that armchair next to it.”

Niall stands up and stretches, his back creaking and protesting as he reaches towards the ceiling. “Thanks, Z. Beats the couch back at your place,” he winks.

“Ha, ha,” Zayn replies, his face deadpan. “Go on, leave me with Harold. I’ll see you in a few.”

“Alright. Good night, Zayn,” Niall yawns and shuffles past him, sparing one last look at Harry’s sleeping form before he leaves the room.

“Night,” Zayn murmurs back to the empty doorway. He sits down in the chair at the head of the bed and props his head on his hands, settling himself in until morning.

 

Across the street, Liam shakes Danielle’s shoulder lightly. “Hey, wake up, sleepyhead.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” she mutters, rubbing at her eyes.

Liam smiles fondly at her. “It’s been a couple of hours since Zayn and Niall went into that building. I don’t think that they’re going to be coming out any time soon. Besides, we don’t have to surveil them 24/7. You ready to head home?”

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

The dark sedan once again peels away from the curb and then heads out into the velvety darkness of a late London night.


	4. Ignition (Remix)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liam goes to Zayn's bar where he meets Niall for the first time, and, in doing so, indavertently causes a problem between Niall and Zayn.
> 
> Finally some action! Also, I apologize for the complete lack of Harry and Louis in this chapter. They'll be back with a vengeance in the next chapter, I promise.
> 
> The song that Niall sings along in the bar to can be found here: https://soundcloud.com/wait-what/wait-what-ignition-in-1901-r

One month later.

“Tonight’s the night, Liam. You ready?”

“I don’t think that I’ll ever be ready. But yeah. Tonight’s the night.” Liam raises his voice as he walks into his apartment, finally able to speak freely. His arms are full of grocery bags and the cell phone that is serving as his burn phone is trapped between his shoulder and his ear.

“We’re counting on you, Liam.”

“I know, Dani.” Liam sighs. He puts his groceries down on his counter and moves to sit on a barstool. He leans forward, supports his weight on his forearms, and says quietly into the phone, “I miss you already.”

“Liam, it’s only been two weeks.”

“I know,” Liam grumbles back. Doesn’t she miss him too? He supposes that Dani has never been overly sentimental like he is. “It still sucks.” He had spent only two weeks preparing to go undercover, tailing Malik and his crew with Danielle and learning about undercover protocol and other vital-but-boring things from Sergeant Kellen. Because the Met and SOCA wanted to get information about Malik before he could get into any serious trouble with his little gang, Liam had assumed his new identity as Liam Parsons, uni drop out and barista from Wolverhampton, after these two weeks. This was unorthodox, but as both Dani and Officer Kellen constantly reminded him, necessary. As per Kellen’s suggestion, he had then spent an additional two weeks adjusting to his new life as Liam Parsons. This consisted of mundane things like buying second hand furniture for his flat (the flat needed to look lived-in, but not like the police department had paid for it), working at the little café around the corner, and buying groceries. Out of sheer boredom, he had taken to going to the store every day after work to buy groceries for the next day, rather than purchasing an entire week’s worth of groceries at a time.

But now his time spent idling was up; Commander Cowell and the boys over at SOCA had decided to send him in that very night. His first official assignment as an undercover agent wouldn’t be anything special; his mission is simply to go to Malik’s newly opened bar, The Station, and scope the place out. Commander Cowell and Danielle are convinced that Malik is using his bar to funnel heroin onto the streets of London, or, at the very least, to launder his drug money. Liam doesn’t really understand how going into the bar and buying a drink will help him uncover an elaborate drug trafficking ring, but he supposes that every undercover operation has to start somewhere.

“Dani, you still there?”

“Yeah, sorry. Look, Liam, I have to go-”

“Dani-”

“Liam, the time for doubt is over. It’s time to act. Sergeant Kellen already approved of you checking back in tonight, so call us when you get back. We’ll talk to you soon. Go kick some ass.”

Liam had never in his life heard “we” sound so cold and impersonal. “Yeah, okay,” he replies. “I love-” But Dani had already hung up. Liam tries not to read too much into this; he’ll talk to her later, after all.

“I can do this, I can do this,” he chants absent mindedly to himself as he places his cell phone down on the counter and walks into his new bathroom. At least the guess work had been taken out of what he was supposed to wear tonight; after observing the patrons of The Station, Dani had picked out a loose pair of jeans, a pair of basic Chucks, and a soft, black Henley. She had assured him that this would allow him to look like he belonged at the bar without drawing anyone’s attention. Liam had decided to take her word for it, as he’s still a bit bemused by the fashion of Malik’s crew. Styles, the tall one, strictly sticks to v necks and band t shirts paired with a leather jacket like Malik, whereas that murderous thug Tomlinson wears deceptively sweet patterned button ups with tiny collars. The blonde, Horan, seems to favor baggy tanks and jeans. Liam sometimes thinks that he looked like a little, European Eminem. Thank God they’re not expecting me to wear anything like that, thinks Liam. Given his luck, such baggy trousers would probably fall down and trip him in the off chance that he would have to make a hasty exit from the bar. Liam strips off his t shirt and jeans, and steps into the shower. It’s going to be a long night.

 

Several hours later, Liam enters The Station and promptly elbows his way to the bar. “Bloody hell,” he mutters under his breath, already overwhelmed. He’s not supposed to drink excessively while on the job, but one drink isn’t excessive. Right?

Everyone at the Met had been calling The Station Malik’s “bar,” but “club” was probably a more accurate term. It’s so packed with people that, in the dim light, Liam can hardly make out where one person ends and the next begins. The dance floor, or rather, the entire interior of the building, is occupied by a seething mass of arms, legs, and heads, all pulsing to an ear-shatteringly loud beat. The beat’s provided by a dj, who stands in a booth raised up on a platform high above the crowd. Private booths shielded by black curtains line the wall opposite the dj booth. Other than the booths and a few scattered tables near the entrance (occupied by a strange mix of surly teenagers and frighteningly muscular middle aged men, Liam notes) the club has no other distinguishing features. Unless one counts the exposed pipes and ventilation ducts, Liam thinks. Is the lack of décor intentional? Ironic, maybe? Liam’s heard that “hipsters” are into irony. Whatever that means. But he’s here to investigate Malik, not to critique his taste in interior decorating.

The bar that Liam is so intent on reaching is massive and takes up the entire back wall of the club. Several bar tenders stand behind it, pulling draft beers and occasionally reaching back to grab big glass bottles of liquor that line the impossibly high shelves. He finally makes it to the front of the queue and signals the bartender. “Uhhh….whiskey sour.” The bartender gives him a funny look but complies with his request. Strange. Liam thinks that whiskey is a pretty standard drink order. That’s what he usually gets when he needs something a bit stronger than a beer. He frowns and files a mental note away to ask Dani what he ought to order next time. That is, if he manages to make it through this night. The hoity toity bartender apparently thinks that he’s already messed up.

“Thanks, keep the change, mate.”

“No worries. I put some cherries in there for ya too, sweetheart.”

“Ohhhh….kay. Cheers.” Liam wanders away from the odd bartender, who inexplicably winks at him as he hands over the glass, and finds a quieter spot at the end of the bar. Sipping on his drink (perhaps more quickly than he ought to), he settles in and turns to survey the crowd. His eyes wander over the mass of people writhing on the dance floor. How is he supposed to find Malik and his associates if he can’t even tell if the person dancing not three feet from him is a man or a woman? Liam swirls the liquid in his glass irritably. The beat shifts, and speeds up to an impossible pace. The dancers begin to throw themselves even more frantically about the dance floor. Liam looks up at the dj booth. Is the dj playing a mash up of R. Kelly and….Phoenix? Odd, but it kind of works. The crowd seems to like it, at least. Wait…is that….? No, that can’t be….

“Are you kidding me?” Liam almost drops his drink. It’s Zayn fucking Malik. There’s no way that the man at the dj booth isn’t him…every inch of him screams Malik, from his meticulously styled quiff down to his leather jacket. Well, this makes his job a whole lot eaiser. Because the booth is raised so high above the rest of the bar, Malik can be seen from almost every point in the club. Which, Liam realizes, is probably exactly what he wants.

As Liam watches, a blonde head bobs up out of the sea of people next to the dj booth. That would be Horan, he thinks. Malik reaches over the side of the booth and pulls the shorter man up onto the platform next to him. Horan leans into the other man, pulls away his headphones, and shouts into his ear. Malik leans right back and reaches around Horan’s skinny waist with an equally skinny arm, smiling in response to whatever the blonde is saying. Suddenly, Horan leaps away from Malik and snatches up a microphone from where it’s lying next to the rest of Malik’s dj gear.

Liam chuckles into his drink as Horan begins to shout into the microphone along to the song, dodging Malik’s attempts to grab it back from him. “Sippin’ on coke and rum! I’m like, so what? I’M DRUNK. It’s the freakin’ weekend baby, I’m ‘bout to have me some FUN!” Malik finally succeeds in wresting the microphone from Horan. He ducks Horan’s open arms, denying his hug, and firmly points out of the dj booth. Horan shrugs, leans in again, this time to plant a sloppy, drunken kiss on Malik’s cheek, and then jumps down from the platform. He quickly disappears back into the crowd on the dancefloor. Malik shakes his head, a smile still on his face as his fingers scroll rapidly across the keyboard of his laptop. Interesting, thinks Liam. He’s not quite sure what to make of that little exchange. He sips his whiskey sour and watches Malik as the mash up fades into the next song.

All of a sudden, there’s a voice at his ear. “How’re you doin’, mate?”

Liam jumps about a foot, but somehow manages to stay balanced on his barstool without spilling a drop of his drink. He needs to calm down if he wants to avoid attracting any attention from Malik and his cronies. Steeling himself, he squares his shoulders and turns to face the voice. And then he actually does spill his drink. All over the shirt of one Niall Horan.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, I am so sorry. I can pay for dry cleaning or whatever you need….oh my god I am so sorry..” Liam blabbers as he grabs some cocktail napkins and lurches forward, futilely trying to sop up the mess of whiskey and lemon juice currently dripping down Niall Horan’s white tank top.

“Dude, it’s fine…it’s fine.” Horan brushes Liam’s hands away and grins at him. “It was my fault, really. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. I just wanted to introduce myself and-”

“No, really. That might stain and-”

“I said it’s fine, man.”

“But I-”

“Look, if you’re that torn up about it, you can just buy me a drink instead.”

Oh. Okay. Liam blinks and then smiles tentatively back at Horan. Don’t fuck this up Payne, he hears Commander Cowell’s voice say in the back of his head. He can do this. He can buy Horan a drink and make nice with him. This might even be his in!

“Yeah, sure. Um, I’m Liam. Liam….Parsons. What’re you drinking?”

The blonde’s grin widens. “Niall Horan.” He firmly shakes Liam’s hand. Soft hands, Liam notes with a start. “Certainly not a fucking whiskey sour. Is that what you spilled all over me?” Liam opens his mouth, half in surprise and half to reply, but Horan plows on. “You up for some jager bombs?”

“Bit early in the night for jagerbombs, isn’t it?” Liam manages to squeak out.

“Mate, it’s never too early for jagermeister. Or Guinness, for that matter,” Niall Horan says as he continues to smile. Does the kid ever stop smiling?

“You’re right.” Liam grins back at him, his expression slowly becoming more genuine. Niall’s enthusiasm is infectious, and this isn’t so bad. He can totally do this. He signals the bartender again. “Two jagerbombs, please.” This time, the man hands over the drinks and accepts the cash without a snide look or comment.

“Looks like Phillip’s jealous,” Niall murmurs, still a bit too closely to Liam’s ear (does he have no regard for personal space?), as he accepts the shot of jagermeister and glass of Guinness.

“Who?” Liam asks as he looks around, jager and Guinness still in hand and a bit bewildered.

“The bartender,” Horan clarifies. He leans forward across the bar and shouts, “Green’s a great color on you, Phil!” The bartender neatly flips him off without even sparing a glance back. Even more confused than before, Liam forces a smile and nods in agreement. Niall settles back onto a barstool and fixes Liam to the spot with his big blue eyes. “So, are we gonna do these jagerbombs or not?”

“Yeah, of course, I paid for them didn’t I?”

“Ooooh, I’m beginning to think that Liam Parsons has got a bit of bite to him.”

“And I’m beginning to think that Niall Horan is all talk.” Why had Liam been so worried about this? This is a walk in the park!

Niall’s eyes crinkle in approval as he cries out in mock indignation, “Fuck that! Let’s do em.” The two men simultaneously drop the shots of jager into their tall glasses of Guinness, raise the glasses to their mouths, and lean back, chugging down the drink. They slam their glasses back down on the bar at nearly the same time. Niall sloppily wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as Liam opts for one of the cocktail napkins. “I beat you!” crows Niall. “I set my drink down first. Loser buys the next round.”

“I didn’t realize that it was a competition!” Liam protests, frowning at the other man. Another round? If he gets drunk he won’t be able to get any intel from Niall.

“Life’s a bloody competition, mate. Loser buys the next round!” Niall insists. Liam can't tell whether or not he's joking. He decides to tease him back.

“You trying to get me drunk?”

There’s a pause as Niall eyes him. “Maybe,” he finally says, smirking. “But you still have to buy the next round.”

Liam rolls his eyes. But really, he doesn’t mind that much. He needs Niall to stick around if he’s to learn anything about Malik. And the kid’s not bad company, either.

They receive their next jagerbombs and chug them in a similar fashion, racing against the rising tide of foam. This time, however, Niall leans back on his stool and carefully regards Liam after they slam their glasses down on the bar. “So, why haven’t I seen you around here before?”

Stay calm, Liam. He’s just making small talk. Right. Cover story. Right. “Um, I, ah…I just moved here. From uh, Wolverhampton.” Shit. Did that sound weird? That sounded weird. Be cool.

“Oh, yeah?” Niall asks, raising one eyebrow as he signals the bartender. “Just two Guinnesses, Phil my love. I think that we need to slow down for a minute. Liam here’s having a hard time getting his story out.”

Story. Shit. Did he know? He couldn’t possibly know. He was joking. Breathe, Liam. “Uh, yeah.” Liam laughs nervously. “I haven’t done two bombs back to back like that since uni.”

“Where did you go to school?” Niall looks up at him from underneath his mop of bright blonde hair as he sips at his Guinness.

“King’s College but-”

“You must be a bloody genius-”

“-I dropped out.”

“Oh. Sorry, I-”

“So, not really a genius.” Liam laughs in an attempt to lighten the mood, since Niall was blushing fiercely. Jesus, he didn’t know that gangsters could blush.

“No, sorry. I, uh, I didn’t even go to uni. If it makes you feel any better,” Niall awkwardly offers.

“Where are you from?” Liam asks. Always keep them talking, preferably about themselves, Officer Kellen had said. Keep them talking about themselves and maybe they would provide him with important information about Malik. “That accent’s not local.”

“No, it’s not. I’m from Ireland. Mullingar, to be specific.”

“So what are you doing here in London?”

“I, uh, followed somewhere here.” Liam notices that Niall drops his eyes down to his Guinness. This is obviously a touchy subject. “But it didn’t work out. So now I’m just tryin’ to make a living.” There’s an awkward pause as the blonde stops talking, unwilling to say anything else about his life.

“Yeah, it’s bloody hard to make a living here. Minimum wage is shit, and London rent is expensive. I wish I could shake a bit more money out of my job, if you know what I mean.” Subtly suggest that you’re in need of money, Officer Kellen had suggested, and maybe they’ll recruit you.

“I feel you. I actually work at a bartender here, but tonight’s my night off. Let’s do another jagerbomb, yeah?” Niall was still smiling, but his glittering blue eyes had turned steely.

Liam smiles back, slightly uncertainly this time. “Hell yeah.” He has to do what he has to do.

 

The last jagerbomb hits Liam pretty hard. Five drinks (well, eight, really, since the jagerbombs contained a double serving of alcohol) in such a short period was excessive, even for a man of his size. Niall seems similarly affected, his cheeks flushed again. His eyes had turned from steely to glassy as soon as he had pounded his last drink. Now, he leans forward and loosely grabs Liam’s wrist. “You wanna dance, Liam Parsons from Wolverhampton?”

“Yeah, why not? Yes. Definitely yes.” Damn, this kid makes him nervous. Why does this kid make him nervous? He’s a gangster that blushes, for Christ’s sake. Liam lets Niall pull him out onto the dance floor. He’s a bit surprised when the blonde settles in close behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, but he’s too drunk to pull away. Besides, Commander Cowell and Officer Kellen would approve. He’s gaining Niall’s trust, right? And Niall’s trust could lead Liam straight to Malik. Liam leans back into Niall’s chest and closes his eyes, swaying to the music. He lets Niall pull his hips gently back and forth into his own, settling into a sloppy rhythm that’s not too far off of the beat of the music. Liam’s not sure how long they rock back and forth together like that, but he does know that the song changes a couple of times. Suddenly, he feels a hand pull at his shoulder. As he’s dragged away from Niall, his eyes fly open. What the fuck?

Whoever had pulled him forward continues to grab at his shoulder, violently yanking him forward onto the ground. Liam covers his head with his hands and spins around on the ground, frantically trying to roll away from the other dancers. Someone stomps on his leg and he yells out in pain. Cursing, he looks up and straight into the angry dark eyes of Zayn Malik.


	5. You Tricky Little Bastard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Some mild violence. References to drug use.

Shit shit shit shit. Liam manages to sit up and starts to scoot away from Malik. This is not supposed to be how he meets Malik. Commander Cowell is going to kill him for blowing the operation already. That is, if Danielle doesn’t kill him first. Shit. Before Liam can escape through the legs of the other dancers, Malik leans forward, gathers the front of his black Henley in his fist, and yanks him back roughly to his feet.

“Who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you grinding on my boyfriend?” Malik shouts into his face. Boyfriend? What the hell is going on? Liam opens his mouth, unsure of what exactly to say the enraged criminal in front of him, when Niall thankfully intervenes.

“You’re not my bloody boyfriend, Zayn. Let go of him.” Not quite what Liam had expected Niall to say, but, then again, nothing about this situation was similar to what he had expected.

“Not anymore! Whose idea was that?” Malik shouts back at Niall. Liam takes advantage of his momentary distraction and twists away from Malik. Malik notices and grabs Liam by the front of the shirt with both of his hands to prevent him from wriggling out of his grasp. “Don’t you even think about moving, you piece of shit,” Malik hisses into his face. Liam pales. Zayn Malik is threatening him. Zayn Malik, notorious thug and suspected drug trafficker, is threatening him. How had this situation escalated so quickly? He shakes his head, trying to remember his undercover training, but his thoughts are blurred, almost completely obscured, by the jagerbombs. What the hell is he supposed to do?

“Both of us, you idiot!” Niall yells above the loud, throbbing bass line. “If I remember correctly, you said that it was a good idea because it would ‘protect’ me!”

“That doesn’t mean that you can come into my bar and dance all up on some stranger like a whore!”

“Yeah, well, we all know that you’re quite fond of whores, don’t we, Zayn? Isn’t that the reason that you talked to me in the first fucking pla-” The rest of Niall’s sentence is cut off as Malik drops Liam and lunges towards the blonde instead.

Malik gets one good punch in to Niall’s face, a right hook, before Liam also lunges forward and attaches himself to his back. Even though his thoughts are clouded, his body remembers his years of hand to hand combat training and he manages to drag Malik down to floor, promptly trapping him there. He sits on Malik’s back, one hand restraining his arm and the other pushing his pretty face (such a waste, Liam drunkenly thinks) into the sticky floor of the bar. Having secured Malik, Liam looks up at Niall. Niall stares back at him in shock, clutching his rapidly swelling cheek. “What the-” he starts to ask Niall, but, before he can get out more than two startled words, he feels two new pairs of arms grab him and pull him up off of Malik and back onto his feet. These motherfuckers need to stop yanking him around like a rag doll.

“Get the fuck off of Zayn, you wanker!” Liam tries in vain to pull away from the short brunette who’s currently screaming in his face. Louis Tomlinson. Of course it’s that maniac. Now he’s really in trouble. If he’s lucky, he won’t end up in worse shape than his old partner Tom was after he confronted Tomlinson last year. Liam turns slightly in an attempt to see who’s holding his arms behind him. He catches a glimpse of unruly curls before Tomlinson hits him square on the jaw, putting the full force of his tiny body into the blow. Harry Styles. Gang’s all here. Great. Commander Cowell is going to kill him. Liam reels back from the impact of Tomlinson’s fist, but is held up by Styles.

“Louis! Stop it!” Tomlinson ignores Niall’s shouts and punches Liam square across the face again. “Harry! Drop him! Back the fuck up, both of you.” Liam hears Niall’s voice as if it’s coming to him through thick sheets of plastic wrap. Had the lights in the club always looked like they were swimming towards him through water?

“Zayn grabbed him! We were just dancing, and Zayn is just being a possessive little fuck. Drop him, I said,” Niall spits out at his friends. Tomlinson carefully sizes Liam up and then looks behind him, nodding to Styles. The lanky man drops Liam’s arms and backs away as Tomlinson turns to help Malik up from where he’s currently sitting on the ground, still attempting to gather himself after being dispatched so quickly by Liam.

Niall stumbles towards Liam. “You okay?” he mumbles, ignoring the other three men standing behind him.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright. Are you okay? I think that dude hit you harder than the other one hit me.” Good. He hadn’t accidentally said their names. Liam mentally congratulates himself.

“Not the first time,” Niall slurs.

“Not the first-” Liam glares back towards Malik, meeting the other man’s challenging stare. What the fuck was going out between all of these guys?

“No, no. Not the first time I've been in a bar fight. ’S fine.” Niall tries to wave off Liam’s concerns but overbalances and pitches forward instead. Liam reaches out to catch him, noting that Malik, Tomlinson, and Styles all start forward to do the same. Really. What the fuck is going on? One moment Malik’s attacking Niall, and the next he’s trying to help him.

“Okay, okay.” Liam steadies Niall. “Why don’t I take you home? You’re still pretty drunk….fuck, I’m still pretty drunk. But I can still take you home…”

Niall sways in Liam’s grasp. “Yeah, okay. But I live above the bar. I don’t want to be around that fucker right now.” Liam assumes that he means Malik.

“You can come back to mine. I live just around the corner.” Niall nods in acquiescence and allows Liam to lead him from The Station without another word to Malik or the other two men.

 

Zayn watches as the stranger with the buzzed hair half drags, half carries Niall out of the door. “What the fuck was that?” he asks, dazed. “Where the fuck is he going?”

“Erm, I’m not sure,” Harry replies.

“Those were rhetorical questions, you idiot,” hisses Louis under his breath. Harry hears him and his face drops slightly, a little crease forming between his eyebrows. Louis smiles apologetically and reaches out to briefly brush at Harry’s hand.

“I’m gonna go.” Zayn interrupts their moment. They can be so sickeningly cute when they're not busy destroying each other. “Jack just took over dj duties….so, yeah. I’m gonna go,” Zayn says, still looking at the exit. He runs his hand distractedly through his hair, not noticing when he pulls it down from its carefully styled quiff.

“Zayn? You alright?” Louis asks, turning away from Harry to focus his full attention on his other friend. Zayn never messes up his hair. Zayn never looks so shaken. For that matter, now that Louis thinks about it, Zayn tends not to attack random strangers in the club. “Did that shithead hurt you?”

“No, Lou. I’ll see you guys later.” And with that, Zayn stalks away from his friends and across the crowded dance floor.

“Man, what’s up his ass?” Louis asks, looking back at Harry.

“Well…Niall isn’t anymore.”

“Jesus Christ, Harry!” Louis grins and smacks Harry lightly on his curly head. “That was positively wicked.” He pauses, still grinning dirtily, and declares, “I love it.”

Harry smirks lazily back at him and leans in closely, shouting above the music, “I kicked some kids out of the second to last booth.” He indicates the row of booths shaded by black curtains.

“I like the way you think, Harold. Lead the way! We haven’t had sex in public for far too long.” Louis beams up at the taller man. “And a fist fight is always the best kind of foreplay, isn’t it?”

Harry snorts. “You’re fucked up, Lou.”

“Yeah, and you like it.” Harry doesn’t deign to reply. He simply rolls his eyes and grabs Louis’s hand, pulling him through the crowd to the booth. Maybe this is one of those too rare nights in which they will actually work, he thinks. One of those nights in which their relationship makes sense.

 

“His bar? Can you fucking believe that? That ungrateful git…I helped him build the business from the bottom up.” Business. Drug business, perhaps. Liam’s interest is piqued as he supports Niall’s drunken weight and they stagger down the street.

“The business?” he prods.

“The bloody Station!” So….not Malik’s drug trafficking business. “Do ya know that he wanted these particular light fixtures for the bar? So I ordered them specially, and they weren’t cheap, ya know, and then the bastard wouldn’t go pick them up so I had to haul them all over this godforsaken city on the bloody Tube! God, and I do his books for him….I don’t know how the hell he graduated from secondary school…..he’s absolutely shit at maths…” Books? Is Niall Zayn's bookie? That would be a strange turn of evens, thinks Liam.

“Alright, alright, buddy,” Liam tightens his grip on Niall as the blonde trips over a crack in the sidewalk.

“Shit, what was that?”

"Don’t worry about it. We’re almost back to my place.”

“You’ve been so nice to me. Proper gentleman,” Niall slurs. “Not at all like Zayn…”

“Thanks, means a lot, I’m sure. Okay, here we are.” Liam awkwardly pulls Niall up the front stairs of his apartment building. “There you go. One foot in front of the other, mate. Just like that. That’s a lad.” He coaxes Niall up another flight of stairs to the front door of his flat.

“This is your flat?” Niall manages to drunkenly get out.

“Yeah, sure is. Hold on…I need to find my keys…” Liam lets go off Niall and fumbles through his pockets. Fuck, he’s still drunker than he wants to be. Taking advantage of Liam’s preoccupation with his missing keys, Niall manages to straighten up and then sway (slightly less gracefully than he would like to) forward into Liam’s personal space. It takes Liam a moment to realize that the blonde’s managed to move on his own, but, when he does, he’s concerned.

“Hey, are you o-” Niall cuts off Liam’s query as he leans in and presses his lips firmly to those of the other man. Liam freezes. They had certainly not discussed this in his undercover training. What the hell is he supposed to do? How the hell does he respond to this?

Niall takes Liam’s stillness as a sign of encouragement and pushes even further into Liam’s personal space, grabbing Liam by the hips and pressing him back against the front door of his flat. When Niall deepens the kiss and gently bites down on Liam’s lower lip, he’s shocked out of his moment of indecision.

“Fuck!” Liam exclaims as he pushes the blonde away. Niall sways on his feet, and Liam immediately reaches out again to steady him.

“Yeah,” Niall replies, misinterpreting Liam’s reaction. “That was something. We should do it again. Maybe inside your flat? Or your bedroom? Or both, ya know, since your bedroom is inside your flat…” he drunkenly rambles.

“No…um, it’s just…um. I’m not…I’m not interested. I’m straight.”

“Wait.” Niall rears back and squints at Liam, blinking as if trying to clear the veil of drunkenness from his eyes. “You’re not gay? I thought…” He leans back even further in Liam’s grasp. “I thought you were gay. You bought me a drink. You danced with me. Like, danced with me.”

“No, I….I’m really drunk. I was just trying to make friends…I just moved here, so I don’t have any. Friends, that is. I wasn’t trying to…send you mixed signals. Or lead you on. Or whatever…” Liam trails off, hoping that Niall will buy his explanation. It’s not like he can come clean and tell Niall that he’s only been talking with him in hopes of gleaning some information about his apparent (ex?)boyfriend.

Niall frowns and finally manages to pull all the way away from Liam, propping himself up on the bannister of the stairs instead. “I can’t even be mad at you. You look like a little puppy that’s just been kicked.” Liam isn’t sure whether he ought to be offended or flattered.

“Um, okay.” Liam pauses. He doesn’t want to mess up and waste the last chance that he might have to gain Niall’s trust. Not that he hadn’t already shot that to hell by rejecting the kid’s advances, he thinks.

So,” Niall clears his throat and breaks the awkward silence, kicking at the wall. A nervous habit. “I’ll just head on back home to The Station. Catch a cab or summat.”

“Mate, no,” Liam blurts out, surprising both himself and Niall, who starts. “Uh…you can’t go back. Your….friend….or whatever…just punched you in the face! And you’re way too pissed to get back on your own. You can just crash at mine.”

“On your bloody sofa, right? Not in your bed.”

“Um, I already told you that I’m straight….” Liam says, surprised by Niall’s sudden vehemence.

“No, sorry. Sorry. I’ve uh, I’ve been sleeping on a lot of couches recently. It’s great. Thank you for doing me a favor, man.”

“No problem,” Liam replies uncertainly. Just when he thinks he knows what to expect from the blonde, he surprises him with an abrupt change in personality like that. Getting information out of him is not going to be easy. Liam glances down at the keys that he’s finally managed to find, and realizes that they’re still standing outside of his flat. He unlocks the door and holds it open for Niall. “Shall we?”

He grabs some blankets and a glass of water for Niall, and then settles him down on the couch. “Thanks again, mate. Jesus. I got you into a fight at a bar and then I put the moves on ya and this is how you repay me.”

“I mean, I did spill a drink on you. So we’re even.” Liam smiles back at Niall. Right. Friendship. He can do this.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to do this.” Niall heaves a sigh and pulls the blanket up over his shoulder, smiling sleepily at Liam. Liam thinks that it’s not a half bad look on the blonde. “I swear that I’m not always such a train wreck.”

“’S alright. I kind of like trains.” Liam replies, winking at Niall as he closes his bedroom door. Niall sinks down into the couch and slowly dozes off into a fitful slumber full of flying fists, cropped hair, and soft, puppy brown eyes.

Liam kicks off his shoes, peels off his clothes, and pulls on the boxers that he prefers to sleep in. The black ones had always been Danielle’s favorite. He slips into bed and then leans back over to root in the drawer of the table next to his bed, fishing out his burn phone. Sergeant Kellen had advised him to leave it at home for the first mission. Liam assumes that this is in case he had been jumped and searched at the bar. Which isn’t too far from what had actually happened, now that he thinks back on it. Actually, that’s exactly what had happened.

He unlocks the screen. Two missed calls from a blocked number. Danielle. He shoots off a text to a number that he’s memorized (no contacts in a burn phone, Kellen had instructed him). I’m fine. Some unexpected developments. Will be in contact tomorrow. He doesn’t put “I love you” at the end of the message like he wants to. Danielle will probably show the messages to Cowell and Kellen, after all. Liam rolls over and falls into slumber every bit as fitful as Niall’s.

 

The next morning, Niall wakes up to a lumpy couch (which is normal) and a strange apartment (which is not so normal). He groans and lies back down, clutching at his head as the events of the previous night come rushing back to him. Fuck. Had Zayn hit him because he was dancing with that guy? That fucker. He was probably in that guy’s apartment right now, then. He was on the couch, though, and still clothed, so they probably hadn’t slept together.

Niall sits up again and blearily takes stock of his surroundings. It looks like he’s in a fairly normal bachelor pad; there’s a little kitchen corner sectioned off by a counter with three barstools, a coffee table and a television in front of him, and a door that presumably leads to Liam’s bedroom and bathroom. His name is Liam, right? Right.

As if Liam can hear Niall thinking about him, he opens the door of his bedroom and steps into the living room. “Oh, you’re up!”

“Yeah.” Niall blinks sleepily at him, still not fully awake. Is the man really just wearing those black boxers? He’s probably still dreaming, he determines. There’s no way Liam is just wearing his underwear. There's no way that his abs look like that. That his chest looks like that. Is the dude a fucking superhero?

Liam stifles a laugh at the clearly disoriented blonde on his sofa and moves into his little kitchenette. “So, do you want eggs for breakfast? Or are you more of a toast guy? Or both?”

Is this straight boy really standing half naked in his kitchen, offering to cook him breakfast after letting him crash on his sofa? The dude is too good to be true, thinks Niall. “Uh sure,” he manages to splutter out, caught off guard. “Both would be a great. And a cup of tea wouldn’t be too much to ask for, would it?”

“Not at all, mate.” Liam replies, looking over his shoulder to smile at Niall, before he turns back to the stove. Niall takes the opportunity to let his eyes slide appreciatively over the muscles in Liam's back, stretching and pulling as he maneuvers the skillet, and down to the curve of his ass. He has to ask this dude about his work out routine.

This is nice, Liam thinks. The last time he’d shared a breakfast with someone had been when Dani cooked sausages in an attempt to preemptively apologize for failing to telling him about his undercover assignment ahead of time. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it. Her. Missed her, of course.

The eggs are cooked, the bread is toasted, and the tea is prepared in no time. Niall joins the scantily-clad Liam at the counter. “You’re too nice, Liam.” Liam just shrugs at him, his mouth full of eggs. So. He had the name right then. “Thanks for all of this,” Niall continues.

Liam smiles and waves his hand in Niall’s direction. “It’s not a problem! Happy to help. You don’t have to keep thanking me.” There’s that blush. Niall ducks his head, trying to hide his flaming cheeks. “Besides, I’m not entirely selfless. I am new to the area and I am looking for friends.”

Niall grins back at him. “Ah, I see. You’ve got a master plan.” He’s joking, Liam. Joking. “You get blokes drunk, platonically take them back to your place, install them on your couch, and ply them with a delicious breakfast in hopes that they’ll be your friends.”

“You’ve caught me! What gave it away?”

“You made omelets instead of scrambling the eggs! No one makes omelets unless he has ulterior motives.”

“You’re probably right,” Liam says, watching as Niall blushes and ducks his head yet again.

They eat the rest of their breakfast in a companionable silence. As he eats, Niall notices the fishing rods leaning up against the wall. “You fish?” he asks, eyeing them.

“Yeah, my dad used to take me when I was a kid. I never threw the rods away. I’m a little sentimental, I suppose.”

“Well, seeing as you’re looking for new friends, we should go fishing sometime. I haven’t been in ages….not since I moved away from Ireland.”

“Really? That would be great! Here’s my number…” Grabbing a pen from a cup on the counter, Liam scrawls down the number of his phone (careful not to mix it up with the number of his burn phone) on Niall’s hand.

Niall bites the inside of his cheek. Does this stupid straight boy even realize that he’s flirting? “Cool, I’ll call you. We’ll definitely go fishing.” Niall hops down from the barstool. “It’s been good meeting ya. Thanks for letting me stay, and for breakfast. I’m sorry about your face.” He gestures towards the brilliant bruise blooming across Liam’s face. “Kind of suits you though.” It’s his turn to wink at Liam. Liam walks him to the front door and holds it open. “I can find my way out of the building. See you on the flip side, Liam Parsons.”

“See you, Niall.” Liam closes the door and leans against it, his breath whooshing out of him. The first part of his mission is over. What a night. Shaking his head, he walks back into his bedroom to his burn phone. What the hell is he going to tell Danielle? Thankfully, he gets voicemail when he calls her.

“Hey, Dan-Sergeant Payzer. Last night was interesting….I met Niall Horan at The Station. We got on fairly well, and he seems to have bought my cover story. I uh, also….ran into…Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson, and Harry Styles. Horan got into a bit of an argument with them and I….intervened. But I think that my relationship with Horan has a lot of potential…he could be my in to the group. I think that I’m going to try to befriend him. Anyway, that’s it for now. Give me a call back and tell me what you, Sergeant Kellen, and Commander Cowell have to say. Talk to you soon.” Liam puts the phone back in the drawer and lies down across the bed. He hadn’t lied, exactly. He’s not sure why he doesn’t report Niall’s kiss. He just doesn’t.

 

A couple of steps outside of Liam’s apartment building, Niall unlocks his phone as well and answers the incoming call.

“What’s up, Lou?” growls Niall, not particularly excited to be speaking to his friend this early in the morning. Especially not after that little stunt he pulled last night.

“You tricky little bastard! What the hell happened last night?”

“I don’t know, Lou. Why don’t you ask yourself? You were the one who punched my friend in the face,” Niall angrily bites out.

“Whoa there, Princess. Calm your tits. I thought that he was beating up Zayn!”

“Well, he wasn’t-”

“And he’s your friend?” interrupts Louis. He’s annoying even on the phone.

“Yes,” Niall answers shortly.

“Just a friend? Are you telling me that you didn’t hit that last night?”

“It’s none of your business, Louis.” Niall really only calls him by his full name when he’s pissed at him.

“Yeah, yeah. You obviously didn’t get any. You wouldn’t be so irritable if you had. Tell me, is he really bald or was I just drunker than I thought I was last night? Is he a skinhead? Are you trying to bang a neo-Nazi, Niall?”

“He’s not bald and he’s not-” Niall huffs out an impatient breath. "Did you call just to taunt me? Because if you did-”

“Are you coming back home?” Louis suddenly changes the topic. “Zayn’s worried about you-”

“Zayn’s worried about me? He attacked Liam for no reason!”

“Oh, so his name is-”

Niall cuts Louis off. “I’m not Harry,” he spits out. “Zayn doesn’t have to ask you to check up on me. If he wants to talk to me, he knows how to reach me.”

“Don’t talk about Harry like that,” Louis says back harshly, his anger palpable even across the airwaves.

“Sorry, sorry,” mutters Niall. First rule: never talk shit about Harry when Louis is around. Niall already knows that. “I didn’t mean it in that way. I know…I know you just called me because you care. I’ll see you later today, okay?”

“Yeah, later.”

 

Louis hangs up the phone and looks at Harry, who’s lounging in the bed next to him.

“Is he okay?” Harry asks, pretending that he didn’t hear Louis snarl his name into the phone.

Louis drops a hand affectionately to his hair, running a finger through his dark curls. “Yeah, babe. I don’t know what the fuck is up with Zayn and Niall, though. I thought that they were over it. I thought that they were going to be fine as friends.”

Harry shrugs and snuggles closer into Louis’s side. “I thought we proved that you can’t be fine as friends.” Louis frowns and opens his mouth to rebuke him, but finds that has no words for the younger boy. Harry breaks their uncomfortable eye contact (when had it become uncomfortable to look Harry in the eyes?) after a few moments and gestures half-heartedly towards the still half-packed bong on the bedside table. “You gonna hit that?”

“No, Haz. Go ahead. It's all yours.”


	6. Gone Fishing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some appropriately adorable (I hope) Niam bonding! Again, a lack of Zayn/Harry/Louis in this chapter but they'll be back with a vengeance in the next chapter.

“Jesus Christ,” Niall huffs under his breath as he struggles in vain to untangle his fishing line for the third time that day. How long has it been since he last went fishing? His brother Greg used to take him all of the time as a kid…Nope. Don’t think about Greg. Don’t think about your family, Niall.

“Here, let me help.” Liam reaches over with a small smile and plucks Niall’s fishing rod out of his grasp, thankfully interrupting his train of thought. The blonde kept hopelessly tangling up the wire every time he cast his rod. Liam examines the knot closely. “Nah, that one’s not coming out. Lemme thread a new line for you.” Reaching back into his kit, he pulls out a spool of fishing wire. He carefully winds the knotted line out of the spinning wheel and attaches a new one to it. Niall dips a hand into the clear, cool water to the side of their little rowboat and covertly watches as Liam expertly reels the new line into place.

“Thanks, man. Sorry I’m such a fuck up.”

“Not a problem.” Liam hands the rod back to Niall and picks up his own, sighing happily as he does so. “Great day for this, innit?” The water is still about them, rippling and waving only so slightly with the briefest touch of the breeze, the cloudless, blue sky reflected in its mirror-like surface.

“It’s beautiful. I feel like I haven’t seen the sun in forever,” Niall replies as he squints up at it from underneath his snapback. “Thanks for taking me out here, and for renting the truck and the boat and everything.”

Liam looks up from examining his fishing rod and grins at him. Niall thinks that he’s probably just imaging the little flip that his stomach does. “Mate, thank you for coming out here with me. I’ve gotta call my mum back in Wolverhampton and tell her that I’m making friends. Well, a friend.” Liam realizes half a second after the words come out of his mouth that he actually means this. He really enjoys spending time with Niall. It’s just because I haven’t been fishing in a while, Liam thinks. And because I’m totally alone in that god-forsaken flat. Not because the blonde’s company is so pleasant. He’s a petty criminal, after all.

“Friend, hmmm? Who said we were friends?” Niall jokes as he lazily casts his rod.

Liam just laughs in response, leaning over the side of the boat to splash Niall.

“That’s it!” Niall shouts as Liam drenches him with water, his patience finally exhausted. He reels his rod back in and places it on the bottom of the boat. “We haven’t caught any fish in the last hour, apparently I can’t remember how to properly cast my rod, and I’m soaked. I’m going for a swim.” The blonde shoots upright, standing straight in the boat.

“Niall! Sit down! You’re going to tip the boat!” Liam shrieks as he drops his own rod in favor of clutching onto the sides of the little rowboat.  
“Serves ya right for splashing me,” Niall cheekily replies as he kicks off he shoes and then strips off first his hat, then his tank top, and finally his shorts. He winks at Liam and then dives out of the boat, his lithe body slicing quickly through the air and then into the water. Liam clutches to the side of the boat even harder as it rocks one last time and then settles back onto the serene surface of the lake.

“Niall!” he shouts in reproach, leaning over the side of the boat in an attempt to spot him. Niall surfaces a few feet away, laughing uncontrollably as he flicks his dripping hair out of his blue eyes.

“Come on in! It feels great.”

Liam glares at him. “You’ve definitely scared the fish away now, with all of your yelling and splashing.”

Niall raises an eyebrow as he treads the water, his defined chest bobbing up and down out of the lake. Not a big deal that I’m noticing his chest, Liam thinks to himself. Or his biceps. Just some friendly appreciation.

“Mate, I’m not convinced that there are any fish in this entire lake. Stop being a spoil sport and get in!” Liam quirks an eyebrow right back at him, not responding, and struggles to keep a smile off his face. “Yeah, I see your smile. You might as well come for a swim if I’ve scared the fish away,” Niall intones, mimicking Liam’s voice surprisingly well. He grins, noting Liam’s surprise. “I’m pretty good with voices. Betcha didn’t know that!” Yeah, but I do know about your arrest record, Liam silently thinks.

“It’s good that you have some talent, seeing as you can’t even cast a fishing rod,” he snarks back instead. In the short amount of time that he’s spent with Niall at the bar, at breakfast, and, now, out on the lake, he’s learned that the blonde loves to get exactly as he gives. Sarcasm and flippant remarks seem to earn his respect. Liam finally pulls up the hem of his own shirt and Niall ducks down under the water to hide his face, predictably flaming at the sight of the other man’s defined abs. Fuck his fair skin. Liam is going to notice his constant blushing at some point, right?

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall mutters as he resurfaces. “Are you getting in or what?”

Liam reaches down to pull of his shoes, and then his shorts. He awkwardly slides over the side of the boat, the resulting splash not quite as graceful as Niall’s dive. He paddles over closer to Niall. “I’m in now. Happy?”

“Nope,” Niall replies shortly, before reaching over to grab Liam’s shoulders and dunking him underwater.

Liam surfaces, spluttering as he chokes out water. “This is how you repay me for taking you fishing?” he shouts, pretending to be annoyed. His smile gives him away. Niall’s teeth glint in the sun as he smiles in return, back pedaling quickly away from Liam. “I’ll show you, blondie!” Liam reaches towards the shorter man.

“Gotta catch me first!” And then Niall’s off, turning to swim away across the lake as Liam splashes after him.

 

“How was fishing?”

“It was fun. Err…fine. It was fine.” Liam puts Danielle on speaker as he putters around his kitchen preparing spaghetti. He’s starving after horsing around all day with Niall in the sun.

“Did you learn anything?” Danielle doesn’t need to say about what.

“Nope, nothing. He hasn’t been talking about Malik, and I don’t know how to bring it up without seeming suspicious. At the very least, he’ll think that I’m snooping around. Worst case scenario, he’ll figure out that I’m a cop.”

“So the only thing we have so far is a drunken comment indicating that Niall used to keep Malik’s accounts for him.”

“Right.” Liam dumps some noodles into the boiling pot of water and stirs. “But we don’t know whether Horan’s involved in drug trafficking with Malik or if he was just referring to the bar’s expenses.” He pauses. “He doesn’t really seem like the type to be involved with drugs….especially not the buying and selling of heroin.”

"Does he seem like the type to beat another man into a bloody pulp during a bar fight? Because he did that a couple of months back remember? You’re not undercover to do a psychological profile on one of Malik’s accomplices, Liam. You’re there to gather intel about Malik,” Danielle reprimands him sharply.

Liam frowns to himself as he pours pasta sauce into a small pan and sets it on the stove, rotating a knob to turn on the burner. She doesn’t have to be so snappy about it. “Yeah, I know. I thought that we all agreed that the easiest way for me to do that is to get close with Ni-Horan.”

“We did. But make sure that you’re focusing on Malik, and not on this Horan character.”

Liam flushes. “I’m not focusing on Horan. I’m focusing on completing this mission. Being undercover fucking sucks. I can’t wait to get back to my….our…life. I miss you, Dani.”

“I know that it’s hard, babe.” Dani’s voice softens imperceptibly before steeling again. “But you’ve got to keep your head in the game. The sooner you figure out what Malik and his cronies are up to, the sooner you can come back home.”

Liam nods, even though Danielle can’t see the motion over the phone. He tries not to think about the fact that, again, she’s failed to say that she misses him. It’s probably nothing.

“Yeah, I-” Liam is cut off by the ringing of his other phone. “Hold on, I’ve got another call.”

“On this phone?”

“No,” Liam huffs. “Give me some credit, Dani. Hold on.” He puts down the burner phone and grabs his cell. “Hello?”

“Hey, Liam.” It’s Niall. “I, uh, just wanted to call you and say thanks for taking me to the lake today. I had a lot of fun.” There’s an awkward pause.

“Oh, err…me too. We should do it again sometime.” Liam puts Niall on speaker as well so that Dani can hear him and returns to the stove.

“Yeah, that’s actually why I called. I was wondering if I could take you out-um, buy you lunch…tomorrow. Since you spent all that money on the truck and the rowboat….” Niall trails off uncertainly.

“Sure. I have work tomorrow, but I get an hour’s break at noon.”

“You work at Moe’s Coffee House, right?”

“Yep.”

“Sweet. There are some good restaurants in that area. I guess we can just choose one when we meet up tomorrow….” Niall trails off again, and Liam wonders if he’s just really bad at talking on the phone.

“Sounds good! I’ve gotta go….I’m cooking dinner. But I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Yeah, see ya.” And with that, Niall hangs up.

Liam leans over to make sure that the call has been completed, and then addresses Danielle. “Did you hear all of that?”

“Yes. This is excellent. See if you can bring up Malik when you see him tomorrow. The most desirable outcome is for Horan to invite you to hang out with Malik.”

Dani, Commander Cowell, and Sergeant Kellen still don’t know that Malik had thrown him down on the floor the first, and only, time that he had met him, and that Malik had then proceeded to punch Niall in the face. Things had gotten even stranger when Malik’s friends Tomlinson and Styles had joined the fight, and when Niall had kissed him later that night. During Liam’s training, Sergeant Kellen had stressed over and over again the importance of disclosing all pertinent information. Liam frowns again as he strains the pasta and removes the pan full of sauce from the stove. He can’t be completely honest with the other officers. If I am, he thinks, they’ll pull me from the mission. For as much as he tells Dani that he hates being undercover, he’s determined to bring down that asshole Malik and his crew. It’s the least he can do after Tomlinson savaged his former partner, Tom, last year. He wants to put that bastard behind bars. After the altercation at The Station the other night, he really wouldn’t mind doing the same to Malik and Styles.

“I’ll try. Did you ever end up buying that turtle?” Liam switches the topic, nervous because he can’t tell Dani exactly why it’s going to be so difficult to get Niall to invite him to hang out with Malik and the others.

“Not yet. I’ve got to go, Liam. I need to brief the Commander and Sergeant Kellen on everything you’ve told me. If the Commander approves of it, Sergeant Kellen and I might discretely tag along tomorrow in an unmarked squad car to observe you and Horan.”

“Oh, err. Okay.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t blow your cover.”

“I know. I trust you, Dani. You’re good at your job…you’re not a Sergeant for nothing.” Liam chuckles, trying to alleviate his anxiety. They were going to observe him? Shit.

“Good luck with Horan tomorrow.”

“Thanks. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Dani replies, and then she’s gone. Liam looks at the two phones, lying side by side on the counter. Living like this is fucking with my head, he thinks to himself as he pours some noodles and sauce onto a plate. His life with Dani in their comfortable flat feels like a distant, flickering memory that he can’t quite grasp, and his only tangible link to his past life is this little phone without any contacts in it. The silence of his empty bachelor pad presses in on him claustrophobically as he sits down at the counter to eat his dinner. Has he really only been undercover for three weeks?

 

“This is so fucking good. How did I forget how good their chicken is?” Niall moans around the sandwich that he’s currently wolfing down. Liam stares as Niall succeeds in shoving the rest of it into his mouth and then follows it up with a handful of fries, not even pausing to breathe.

“How do you…? Never mind, I don’t want to know. This is disgusting.”

“What?” Niall swallows his food and glances over at Liam. The two men are seated across from each other at the outdoor patio of a little restaurant. Liam looks at Niall with barely concealed revulsion, his own sandwich lying untouched on his plate. “Your food is disgusting? I’ll eat it," offers Niall.

“No,” Liam clarifies. “Watching you shove that sandwich down your throat is disgusting. I think I’ve lost my appetite.”

Niall smirks up at him, grinning around another mouthful of fries. “You’re just saying that because you’re straight.”

“Wha-” Liam’s eyes widen comically and then narrow in suspicion as he glares at Niall.

“If you were gay you would love watching me shove things down my-”

“Yeah, I get it,” Liam interrupts. “Now I’ve definitely lost my appetite.”

Niall sniggers in response. “Can I have your food, then?”

“You’re actually the worst.” Niall just winks back and leans across the table to steal a few of Liam’s fries. “Do you even know me well enough to make jokes like that?”

“Hey, you said that we’re friends. Friends let friends make dirty jokes, mate.” Liam rolls his eyes and picks up his sandwich, not deigning to reply. Niall snorts. “I see how it is.” Liam smirks and continues to eat his sandwich, still silent. “Okay, okay. Let’s talk about something else. How was your morning?”

“It was alright. There was a dude who demanded a new latte because I made it with two percent milk instead of skim. Like, how could he even tell? Prick.” Liam should probably be worried about how easy it is to spill his guts to Niall. Oh well. He mentally shrugs it off.

“The nerve!” Niall gently mocks, imitating Liam’s deep timbre again. He’s getting fairly good at it. Niall reaches across the table again to steal another handful of fries. This time, Liam lightly slaps his hand away.

“It doesn’t count as buying me lunch if you eat half of it.”

Niall looks up at him, his blue eyes twinkling. They are quite blue, Liam thinks distractedly to himself. “Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re right. I’ll order another side of fries.” He waves at the waiter and points at his empty basket. The waiter just nods and turns away. Apparently Niall’s a regular here. Not really surprising.

They sit in a comfortable silence as Liam continues to eat his sandwich. After a few minutes, the waiter returns with a new basket of fries. “On the house, Niall.”

“Aw, thanks Andrew. You’re the best.” Niall delves into the food.

“No problem.” The waiter glances over at Liam, carefully considering him. Liam cocks an eyebrow back and the man turns to face Niall again. “Call me some time, will you? I had a lot of fun last time we...hung out. I can give you my number again if you’ve lost it…”

“Nah, I still have it. I’ll definitely hit you up soon.” Niall smiles at the man (Liam notes that the smile doesn’t quite make it to his eyes, nor does it reveal his teeth) and then looks back down at the fries, dismissing him. The waiter shuffles off with another look back at Liam.

“Bit rude.”

“Huh?” Shit. Liam hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“I just meant, it’s a bit rude of him to hit on you. We could be on a date or something,” Liam says. Wait, is he irritated? Why is he irritated? Liam’s face twitches as he mentally reprimands himself.

Niall shrugs and mumbles around yet another mouthful of fries, “Wait, we’re not on a date? I paid for your food!” he snickers to himself.

Liam shrugs back, a similar motion to Niall’s, and looks away from the blonde and back at the street, watching a few cars pass by the patio. From his spot at the table, he can barely make out the unmarked squad car containing Sergeant Kellen and Dani.

Niall notices that Liam’s shoulders have stiffened slightly, and mercifully changes the subject from the waiter and his forwardness. “Have you checked out that music store down the street yet? It’s fantastic. They have a lot of old vinyl records.”

Liam shakes his head and swallows another bite of his sandwich. “I didn’t even know that there was a record store in this part of town.”

“Really?” Niall leans forward, eyes twinkling excitedly. “We should go after we finish eating! Do you have time?”

Liam checks his watch. “I can get back to the coffee shop a couple of minutes late. My boss owes me one for staying late to count inventory the other night.”

“Let’s do it!” Niall smiles (this time it does reach his eyes, Liam notes) and continues to scarf down the fries.

Liam clears his throat. This could be his chance. He needs to work Malik into their conversation somehow. “Yeah, I haven’t really been able to explore this part of the city yet. I would love to see more of it.” Maybe Niall will get the hint and invite him out with his friends.

Niall’s mouth twists in amusement. “You fishing for a second date, Parsons?” The awkwardness of a few minutes ago is already forgotten.

“Second? Did that lake trip not count? Or that first night of the bar?” Liam teases. Niall’s face drops at the reminder of their scuffle with Malik, Styles, and Tomlinson. Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned that. “Uhh…sorry. I didn’t mean….I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Niall waves him off. “No, it’s fine. I just still feel bad about that. I mean, what a welcome to the neighborhood.”

Liam shrugs and does his best to appear calm and unbothered. “It’s cool.” He pauses, uncertain of how to proceed. You have to do this, Payne. Get it together. He knows what Dani and the Commander would want him to do. Mention Malik, damn it. “Why did your friend come at us like that, anyway? I think I remember him shouting about you being his boyfriend or something…” Liam trails off, pretending that his memory about that night is hazy. It works.

Niall snorts into his drink, his face hardening. “We….had a thing. Yeah. He was my…boyfriend for a bit. And then he wasn’t.”

Liam laughs and spreads his hands, trying to lighten the mood. “That was vague. Sorry, I don’t mean to pry or anything.”

“No, it’s fine. It ended a while ago. We agreed to stop sleeping with each, and I finally moved out last month.” Niall notes Liam’s questioning look. “We weren’t together…I was just crashing on his couch until I found a new place to live.” He shrugs, and looks absently down at his plate, his food long forgotten. “It’s complicated, I guess.”

“Is….he…the person you followed from Ireland?” Liam asks. It’s hard to remember not to use Malik’s name. Focus, Liam. Niall looks up sharply at him. Damn it. Maybe he had pushed too far. Why on earth would he have remembered a detail like that, drunkenly slurred to him over the sound of the loud music at the bar? “We, uh, don’t have to talk about it…shit. I’m really bad at making new friends…”

Niall relaxes as his face crinkles into a fond smile. “Dude, relax. I’m not offended. That whole situation was shitty, so it’s hard for me to talk about it.” He cocks his head at Liam. “What about you? Any ladies in your life?”

Liam feels a twinge in his gut as he thinks about Dani, her soft smile and even softer curls. Her laugh as her toned arms shoved him away from their stove. “No,” he finally replies. “Not…not anymore.”

“Well, shit. This conversation got really sad really quickly.” Niall belches and pushes his now empty plate across the table. “You need to get out and meet more girls, mate!” He pauses, considering something. “Why don’t you come to The Station tonight? I’m a pretty good wingman.”

Yes. Liam has his in. He masks his excitement. “You sure that your ex-boyfriend won't tackle me? Or that his friends won't punch me in the face?"

Niall wags a finger at him. “They know better. I gave them a stern talking to.” He leans back in his seat, those blue eyes shining again. Really blue, Liam thinks for the second time that day. “Besides, I think that they’re gonna like you. After tonight you might be able to call your mum and tell her that you have more than one friend.”

“Shut up.”


	7. Can't Keep Buying My Drinks

Liam nervously pulls at the collar of his shirt-Dani had picked a graphic tee and dark jeans this time-as he walks into The Station. It’s only 11 pm, relatively early for most of London’s night time revelers, but the bar is already packed. He worms his way through the dance floor, looking for that shock of bright blonde hair. He’s circled the room twice when he stops and frowns to himself. Maybe Niall isn’t here yet?

“Hey! Liam! Over here!” Liam wheels around to find Niall smiling brightly at him from behind the bar. The blonde waves him over with an enthusiastic hand.

“Hey mate! Turns out I’m on duty tonight. Phillip called in sick.”

“Oh…okay. Well we could just hang out tomorrow-”

“No, no.” Niall flips his hands at him again. “Sit down! Sit down! What do you want to drink?”

Liam grins and takes a seat at the bar, leaning forward to rest his weight on his elbows. “Surprise me, bartender.” Niall winks in response and moves down the bar. Liam takes the opportunity of his momentary absence to glance furtively around the bar. There’s no sign of Malik or any of his accomplices. Liam’s not sure whether or not to be relieved.

“Here ya go.”

Niall slides him a short tumbler of amber liquid and ice cubes. Liam raises the glass, silently toasting his friend, and takes a generous swig. “Shit!” He coughs immediately and pounds at his chest as he slams the glass-still half full-down on the bar. “Bloody hell.”

“Sorry! Sorry!” Niall reaches over the bar to pound his back, and then swiftly leans back to pour him a glass of water. “Here, drink this.” Liam takes it and gulps it down.

“Shit.”

“Sorry, I thought you liked whiskey.” Niall’s cheeks are predictably flaming as he silently curses himself. “You were drinking a whiskey sour when I first met you so…” he trails off uncertainly.

Liam coughs again. “Yeah, I just usually don’t drink whiskey straight. Or any liquor straight, really.”

The smile returns to Niall’s face as he realizes that Liam isn’t mad at him. “We can fix that. But in the meantime…” He takes the tumbler back from Liam, cracks a can of soda, and pours it into the tumbler. He sighs to himself. “Shame to pollute Jameson with soda.” He slides the tumbler back to Liam. “But try this instead. Whiskey and ginger. A little bit manlier than your goddamned whiskey sour, but just as tasty. Promise.” Liam looks at him warily. “I promise!” Niall insists. “Would I lie to you, Liam me heart?” He winks again, this time an exaggerated motion. Liam blushes and takes a cautious sip of the drink to hide his crimson face.

“It’s not bad.” He reaches to his back pocket to fish for his wallet but Niall shakes his head emphatically.

“Nuh-uh. You’re not payin’ for nothin’. It’s on me.”

“You bought me lunch today! You can’t buy me drinks as well.”

“We’ll put it on Phil’s tab then, since he made me cover for him on such short notice.”

Liam smirks into his glass, remembering the haughty bartender. “Okay.”

“Another?”

 

A half an hour and three drinks later, Liam is fairly buzzed. He watches as Niall flits around behind the bar, a blur of wide smiles and blonde hair. Niall turns this way and that, mixing drinks, grabbing cash, and flirting rakishly. Liam can’t seem to take his eyes off him. And then, suddenly, there’s a movement at his elbow.

“Hello, mate. You’re Niall’s boy, right? I’m Louis.” Tomlinson is standing behind him, sharp little canines showing in his smile. Where did he come from? Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him.

“Uh….yeah. I’m Liam Parsons.”

“Nice to meet you, Liam. Sorry for punching you in the face the other night. Misunderstanding, you know?” Tomlinson plunks down on the bar stool next to him. Liam forces himself to take Tomlinson’s proffered hand.

“’S alright, mate.” He smiles tightly. “No hard feelings.”

“Great. Can I buy you a drink to make up for it? What are you drinking?”

“No, it’s fine. Niall’s actually paying for my drinks. Well, technically that other bartender is but-”

“Oh is he?” Tomlinson daintily quirks an eyebrow and looks down the bar at Niall, who’s currently chatting up three girls at the same time. “All the same, I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Whiskey and ginger.” Tomlinson sharply nods, and turns back to catch Niall’s attention. He points at Liam’s glass and Niall juts out his chin in acknowledgement, turning to root under the bar for another can of ginger ale. He mixes a drink for Tomlinson and then walks carefully over to them.

“Alright, then?” he asks, eyes darting to Liam.

“Well of course, Niall dear. I was just talking to your handsome friend here. Liam, was it?” Tomlinson addresses Liam, but stares at Niall as he hands him cash in exchange for the drink. He has a challenging smirk on his face, and Niall answers it with a frown. Liam looks uncertainly between the two. What exactly is going on?

“Yeah, my name’s Liam.”

“Brilliant. Keep the drinks coming, Niall. Are mine on you, too?” His eyes glint dangerously.

Niall rolls his eyes, breaking the tension. “Yes, your highness. And no, you’re paying.” As he walks back down the board, he stops to lean in close to Liam. “You good?” he whispers. “He can be….a bit much.” He tilts his head slightly towards Tomlinson, who studiously pretends to ignore them as he sips at his drink.

“It’s fine. I can handle myself.”

Niall claps Liam on the shoulder, his mouth twisting into a grin. “I know you can.” Liam watches him walk away. He doesn’t stare at his ass. Not really.

“So Liam.” Tomlinson catches his attention. “What do you do for a living?”

“I work over at Moe’s Coffee House. I started a couple of weeks ago.” He pauses and shifts in his seat. Casual conversation with violent thug Louis Tomlinson. Right. “What about you?”

“I’m....an entrepreneur.”

“What kind of business are you in?” Tomlinson looks over at him sharply over the rim of his glass. Liam grins back at him, hoping to convey through his body language that he’s being playful.

“The business,” Tomlinson says shortly, refusing to rise to the bait. Liam’s eyebrows lift in surprise. Did Tomlinson really just hint at being a criminal? Maybe this night won’t be a waste after all. Tomlinson’s mobile buzzes, and he’s momentarily distracted. “Harry!” He squeals into the phone. Liam is startled by the abrupt change in his tone of voice. “Where are you? Oh, you are? I’m over by the bar.”

Louis downs his glass and Liam follows his lead, albeit sipping a bit more slowly. Several moments later, Liam sees a lanky man pushing towards them through the crowd. Styles. He stops briefly to talk to Niall and accept a drink. Styles leans in close as he pays Niall, purring something into his ear. Niall flushes and smacks him lightly on the back of his curly head in response. Styles turns, grinning, and slinks down the bar towards them. Liam doesn’t notice that his fist has tightened slightly about his glass, but Tomlinson does. He quirks his eyebrow again. Interesting. And then his boyfriend moves to stand in between his legs, breaking his train of thought as he wraps long arms about his neck.

Liam looks pointedly away, still sipping on his whiskey and ginger. After a beat, Tomlinson pulls away from Styles. “Liam, this is my boyfriend Harry.”

“Harry Styles,” Styles repeats as he leans forward slightly to shake Liam’s hand, one arm still slung around Tomlinson.

“Liam Parsons.” Styles’s hand is surprisingly gentle in his. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Hasn’t Niall picked such a polite one?” Tomlinson exclaims, beaming at Styles.

“We’re not actually dating, you know. I’m straight.”

This time it’s Styles who answers him, all grinning dimples and big green eyes. “Shame.”

Liam decides to play along and smiles back. “And why’s that?”

“Such a waste of such a great ass.” He leans around Tomlinson to get a better look at Liam.

“Harry!” Tomlinson squawks indignantly. “You can’t even see his ass! He’s sitting down! Besides, you’re supposed to like my ass the most.”

Styles swoops down to kiss his cheek. “Of course I do, boo. I was just testing him.” He turns to flash those dimples at Liam again. “Congratulations, you’re not a homophobic idiot.”

These two are too much, thinks Liam. He raises his glass. “Cheers, mate.”

 

Liam is rescued a half hour later when the shift changes and Niall gets off the clock. By this time, he’s moved to one of the private booths with Tomlinson and Styles, and Liam has heard the entire story, in great detail, of how they first met (“And then Harry went home with me instead of Zayn-that’s the bloke I pulled you off of the other night-even though he had made out with Zayn in the bathroom earlier in the night. Zayn was so mad that I broke the code!”).

Niall slips in through the little crack that they’ve left in the curtains, sliding into the seat next to Liam. He reaches over to squeeze Liam’s knee lightly as he settles in. Liam’s heart definitely doesn’t leap into his throat. Distracted by Niall’s brief touch, Liam doesn’t notice that Tomlinson is looking at him sharply with thoughtful, narrowed eyes.

“How’s it going lads?” asks Niall as he reaches across to snag Styles’s drink.

“Hey!” Styles protests.

“Thought you were only having one drink, Harry.” Niall teases him as he takes a sip. Tomlinson turns his gaze from Liam to Niall, who shrinks immediately back into his seat. Liam senses the abrupt change in mood and shifts nervously in his seat. Obviously Niall’s comment has hit a nerve.

Niall opens his mouth to speak, thinks better of it, and hangs his head sheepishly as he offers the drink back to Styles, who doesn’t lift a hand to take it. After an awkward pause, Niall sets the glass down in front of him. Styles reaches out one long index finger to slowly trace around the base of the glass, wiping up the condensation.

“Yeah, I was just gonna have one. You can finish it.” Styles finally replies. He stares determinedly down at the table, refusing to meet the gazes of either Niall or Tomlinson. Next to him, Tomlinson shifts to possessively grip the back of Styles’s neck as he glares at Niall.

“It’s fine. I don’t really want it.” Niall coughs into his fist as he nervously glances at Tomlinson, breaking the prolonged silence. “I was gonna steal Liam away from you two and take him back to the bar, anyway. Give you guys some alone time.”

Tomlinson finally smiles at that and slides his hand up to ruffle Styles’s curls. The mood lightens almost instantly, and Liam breathes out quietly. He hadn’t even noticed that he was holding his breath. Tomlinson has that effect on people, he supposes.

“How considerate of you. You kids have fun.” Tomlinson spares one last glance to Liam before leaning back to attach himself to Styles’s face.

Niall grabs Liam’s hand to pull him out of the booth. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before they start dry humping.”

Styles flips Niall off behind Tomlinson’s back, and Liam laughs in spite of himself. He really doesn’t want to like these guys, he thinks despairingly to himself. And then Niall does pull him out of the booth and onto the dance floor.

“Sorry about that.” Niall leans in to shout into his ear, as the throbbing sounds of the music increased once the clock hit midnight. “Harry’s got…he’s got a problem. With substances, y’know?”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Liam shouts back, unsure of what else to say.

Niall shrugs dismissively. “It’s not so bad anymore. He’s getting better.” He looks away from Liam, obviously not wanting to talk about it. “Anyway, want another drink?”

“I’m not sure if I should-”

“Yes, Liam, the answer is always yes. We’ll get you another whiskey and then we’ll find you a girl.” Between focusing on keeping his cover and being mildly entertained and also slightly terrified by the antics of Styles and Tomlinson, Liam had almost forgotten about their mission for the night.

“Oh, yeah. Right. A girl.” Niall grins encouragingly at him and leads him to the bar.

“Two whiskey and gingers, Emma!”

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you. You weren’t answering your phone.” Liam starts at the unfamiliar voice, and Zayn Malik appears to melt out of the crowd before them. Oh shit. This is what Liam wanted, but now, seeing the man in front of him, he starts to panic.

Niall reaches back to absently pat his pocket. “Sorry, mate. It’s on silent. And I’m off the clock now, so…”

“No, no. Not looking for you. I just wanted to see if you were around and-” Malik stops abruptly, suddenly noticing Liam. “You going to introduce me to your friend?” he growls, eyeing Liam.

“I don’t know, are you going to throw him on the ground this time?” Niall snarks back, refusing to be intimidated by Malik’s lowered voice.

At that, Malik winces slightly and almost seems to wilt. “No, sorry.” He squares his shoulders and turns to Liam. “Sorry, mate.” He doesn’t sound very sincere. “I’m Zayn. Zayn Malik. I’m not usually that much of a douche when I meet someone for the first time but…” he trails off, shrugging one shoulder, and Liam steps in graciously.

“It’s fine. I’ve already forgiven Tomlin-Louis, so I can’t keep a grudge against you. Wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

“No.” Malik gives him one last considering glance before he turns back to Niall. “I’ll see you around, I guess,” he says, his face steely. And then, before Niall can reply, Malik has melted back into the press of sweaty bodies.

“Of course I’ll fucking see him around, I live above his fucking bar,” Niall grunts.

“What?” Liam shouts back, unable to hear him clearly above the pounding bass.

“Nothing! Ah, there’s a lass. Thanks, Emma.” Grateful for the interruption, Niall takes the two glasses of whiskey and ginger and hands the bartender a slim wad of cash in return.

“You can’t keep buying me drinks,” Liam slurs into Niall’s neck, leaning into him. Niall’s neck shivers underneath his breath, and they both pretend not to notice.

“Nonsense, Liam Parsons. I’ll do whatever I damn please and you can’t stop me.” Niall grins and pushes the cold glass into Liam’s hand, deftly shrugging the taller man’s body off of his own with the same movement. “Now drink up and let’s find ya a lady friend.”

 

“I just really don’t want another, chick, y’know?” Liam’s words tumble around in his mouth, his lips tripping over familiar consonants.

“Another chick? I thought you broke up with your girl,” Niall replies as he pulls Liam out of the cab and towards his flat. Liam thinks that it’s funny that they did this exact same thing only a week ago, except that their positions had been reversed and he had drunkenly pulled Niall up the stairs. He giggles into Niall’s shoulder, abruptly stopping when the blonde’s question sinks in.

“Uhhh….yeah,” Liam backtracks. "I did. I just meant….I don’t want another chick. I just want her.” That’s true at least. He doesn't want another chick. A certain blonde Irishman on the other hand...

Next to him, Niall somberly nods his head. “I feel ya, man.”

Liam squints suspiciously down at him. “You don’t even like girls,” he says accusingly.

“Thank you, Captain obvious. I just meant…..I understand only wanting one person. And not being able to get over that one person.”

“Are you talkin about Malik? Errr…Zayn?”

Niall flicks him playfully on the nose. “Maybe I am. Why are we having a heart to heart right now, anyhow? You won’t even remember this in the morning.” He continues to haul Liam up the stairs.

“I will. I’m not that drunk.”

“Mate, you’re pretty pissed. You couldn’t even remember your name when you were talking to that girl.” Shit. Niall had noticed when Liam had slipped up and had failed to remember his fake last name. Parsons, not Payne. He’s Liam Parsons now. Luckily, Niall seems to find his slip up endearing rather than suspicious.

“Uhh….I was nervous. She made me nervous!” Liam pouts at Niall, who laughs at him.

“You’re not so smooth with the ladies, huh? Guess that’s why you’re flying solo tonight.”

“’M not solo! I have you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” They finally reach the front door of Liam’s flat. Niall holds Liam up by a firm grip on his bicep as Liam fumbles for his keys. Liam can feel the heat from the proximity of Niall’s body, and he flushes, remembering the first night that he met Niall. Remembering how Niall had leaned in and then pushed him up against the door… “Alright, mate?” Niall thankfully interrupts Liam’s dangerous train of thought.

“Yup, here m’ keys.”

“Do you need help getting in or-” There’s a strange sort of hopefulness in Niall’s eyes as he bounces up and down on his toes nervously. Liam thinks about what would happen if he says yes. Would Niall tumble through the door with him? Would he push him up against the wall just like he had pushed him up against the door, thumbs pressed tightly into his hipbones? Would he kiss-

“No! Nope! ‘M fine. I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

And then Liam is inside of his flat with his door shut, leaning up against it without the warmth of Niall plastered against his side. He goes to bed without checking the burn phone.

 

Across town, Danielle sits at their kitchen table staring at her own mobile. The time on the stove clock reads 4 am. If Liam hasn’t checked in by now, he’s either dead or still involved with Malik and his gang. She wipes an errant tear from her cheek. The latter, she thinks desperately. It has to be the latter.

 

“Mate, you look like shit.” Liam turns around at the low, rumbling voice to find Harry Styles standing on the other side of the counter. It’s too fucking early in the morning to be dealing with a hardened criminal. He better get a good fucking bonus for going undercover.

“You gonna order something or are you just gonna stand there and insult me?”

“Both?” And there’s that cheeky dimpled grin. Liam tries not to let the corners of his mouth quirk up in response, and fails. Styles’s grin grows larger at the sight of Liam’s smile. “Erm…can I get a small coffee? And a chocolate chip muffin?”

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Cream and sugar, please. Oh….and, erm….can you add another small coffee to my order? Black with two sugars. For Zayn.”

At the mention of Malik’s name, Liam’s head snaps up of its own volition. He feels Styles’s eyes boring into the back of his neck, and refuses to look away from the coffee machine. What kind of reaction is the man looking for? He had to have purposefully mentioned Malik.

“Sure thing. Coming right up,” Liam says in a steady voice. He readies Styles’s order and rings him up.

“Thanks, mate.” Styles’s tips him generously.

“My pleasure. Have a good day.” Liam has become unfailingly polite and slightly cold, and he knows that it seems odd. Pull it together, he thinks.

Styles turns to leave, holding the two coffees and the muffin, thinks better of it, and then spins back around to address Liam again.

“Erm…did Niall invite you to karaoke tonight?” Styles asks uncertainly.

“No, he didn’t. But I don’t think I could handle two nights out in a row with you blokes anyway.” Liam laughs, the sudden tension that had arisen between them at the mention of Malik dissolving just as easily.

Harry flashes those dimples in return, his long, tense body visibly relaxing. “Right…well. You should come! It’s Niall’s favorite….he’s a really good singer. Did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t. But I’ve only known him for like a week so…” Liam shrugs his shoulder.

Styles eyes him carefully. “Well, you two’ve been…..spending a lot of time together…considering that it’s only been a week.” The lad really does speak very slowly, Liam thinks absently to himself. “I think Niall’s quite taken with you…” Styles continues, still examining him. “Platonically, that is. Platonically taken with you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” The door tinkles as another person enters the coffee shop. “I’ve got to help this next customer…but maybe I’ll see you tonight?”

“Hopefully.” And with that, Styles finally leaves the shop. He joins Zayn Malik, who, Liam realizes, has been standing outside smoking a cigarette the entire time. Malik stares at Liam through the glass window pane for a beat, before breaking his gaze to drop his cigarette and take one of the coffees from Harry. The two turn to walk down the street, and Liam turns back to the counter.

“How can I help you today?”


	8. Taking Care of Business

“Black, two sugars. Just the way you like it.” Harry beams at Zayn as he hands him the coffee. Zayn drops his cigarette and takes the coffee, turning away from the boy inside the coffee shop.

“Thanks.” He takes a sip and then looks sideways at Harry. “Who’s he?”

“Don’t play coy, Malik….that’s my job. You know who he is.”

“Yeah, I know who he is. I met him the other night. Didn’t tackle him this time.” Zayn shoots a crooked grim at Harry. “What’s his name?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Playing coy is definitely not your job,” Zayn shoots back, sulking as he sips at his coffee again.

Harry grins down at him as they walk down the busy sidewalk. When did that fucker get so tall? “Jealous of Niall’s new boy toy?” Harry holds his hands up defensively when Zayn scowls at him. “Well, you’re in a great mood today. I just bought you coffee…. jesus….you should at least be nice to me.”

“I’ll be nice to you when you stop fucking around,” Zayn growls as he abruptly turns to cut across the street. Harry yelps and dashes across the busy road to follow him. They walk a few more steps in silence before Harry decides to pipe up again.

“They aren’t…..erm….they aren’t dating. Niall’s just taken a shine to him, that’s all. His name….erm, is Liam. Liam Parsons, I think?”

Zayn snorts into his coffee as he weaves through the other pedestrians, Harry following closely behind him. “He forgave me for attacking him, can you believe that?”

Harry smiles dreamily. “Nice bloke, isn’t he? He said the same thing to Lou.”

“I’m sure he’s very nice,” snaps Zayn. At that, Harry reaches an arm out to grab Zayn’s shoulder and swing him around. The taller man’s brows furrow in concern as he forces Zayn to make eye contact with him.

“What in the bloody hell has gotten into you lately?” Harry demands. Zayn jerks back out his grasp, surprised. Harry hates direct confrontation. Or confrontation of any sort, really.

“Nothing’s gotten into me lately. Jesus Christ. Will you stop grabbing me?”

Harry folds his arms across his chest and plants himself in the middle of the sidewalk, undeterred by the dirty looks other pedestrians shoots him as they bump around him. “Something has gotten into you, you git. Stop being a dick and tell me what’s wrong.” Zayn’s mouth opens, mostly in shock, but Harry continues before he can reply. “You broke up with Niall, or it was mutual,” he hastily adds when he sees Zayn’s eyes flash. “Or whatever. It doesn’t matter. It’s been months, Zayn. Get the fuck over it and get your head out of your ass before you ruin your friendship with Niall.”

“Um,” is all Zayn has to say back to Harry’s tirade. He hasn’t heard the other man string so many words together in a long, long time. “Okay?” he uncertainly says, eyeing Harry nervously.

At that, Harry smiles and starts forward again, looping a lanky arm about Zayn’s neck. “Good. Glad that’s settled.”

Zayn rolls his eyes at Harry, but wraps an arm about his waist anyway. “Me too,” he huffs out a laugh. Harry’s charm really is irresistible. He understands now why Louis keeps giving him chances. It’s impossible to say no to those big green eyes. “Now hurry up. You’re gonna be late for your first day of work!” Last night, spurred into a state of drunken loneliness after running into Niall and his new friend, Zayn had promised Harry that he would walk with him to his first day as an intern at the local radio station. On the condition that Harry buy him coffee, of course.

“We’ve still got half an hour!” Harry blinks owlishly down at Zayn as they continue to walk down the street. Zayn just hums absently in response, dodging an elderly woman and her three swinging shopping bags. “I’m really….erm, I’m really excited about this job. I really hope that this one works out. Y’know?”

“You’ll be great, Harry.” Zayn tightens his arm reassuringly around his friend’s waist.

“Y’really think so?” Harry asks him anxiously. Harry’s attempts at honest work usually end in disaster and fresh track marks up his arms.

“Yeah, ‘course!” Zayn smiles sadly up at him. “You’ve really turned it around this time, Haz. I know you can do it.” As if on cue, Zayn’s mobile rings, interrupting their conversation. He fishes it out of his coat pocket. It’s a blocked number. “Hello?”

“It’s Lloyd. Heard you were asking around about me.”

Zayn pulls his mobile away from his ear. “Shit. Uhh…this is really important, Haz. D’you mind…?”

“No, no.” Harry waves him off. “I understand. I can walk myself the rest of the way. See ya later.”

Zayn mouths one last apology to Harry before turning around to head back to The Station, speaking into his phone as he does so. “I was, yeah. I’m thinkin’ about going into business by myself. And I thought that you could be of help.” There’s a pregnant pause, and Zayn holds his breath. He’s determined to start distributing heroin to the dealers in the surrounding area, and his plan largely hinges on the fact that he’ll be able to funnel Lloyd’s product through The Station. And then, after he’s moved the product, he’ll be able to launder the profits through the bar with the help of Niall and his math smarts. But first, he has to actually purchase the heroin. Lloyd’s product isn’t the best, but he was the most dependable supplier that Zayn worked with back when he was still Paul’s errand boy. If a man in such a cutthroat profession can ever be called dependable, that is.

“Ambitious.” Lloyd’s answer is as curt as the man himself.

“I’ve got the capital.”

“Doubtful.”

“I can give you twenty five percent up front. Cash, obviously.”

“I need half. You know that, Malik. But even if you do have half what makes you think I would sell-”

“Thirty percent.”

“Thirty five percent. And that’s only because I think you’ve got balls, lad.”

“Deal.” Thank God the man doesn’t ask how Zayn has the money, because Zayn knows that he can’t tell him. The Station only opened a month ago, and all of the money generated by the bar still has to be put towards its renovations and such. Still, Zayn had managed to illicitly squirrel away some money last year when Paul sent him to rob a rival gang. But that’s a different story.

“You’re not working with that lunatic Tomlinson, are you? Because if he’s involved, I will not-”

Zayn lies through his teeth. “No, he’s too much of a liability.”

“Good. How much are we talking here?”

Zayn pinches the bridge of his nose as he answers, keeping his voice as steady as possible when he replies. “A kilo.”

“Are you mental?”

“Lloyd, you’re big time. I know it, you know it. We both know that you don’t move small quantities of product.”

Lloyd’s silence on the other end of the phone reminds him that Lloyd’s phone is probably tapped. Right. Zayn knows that. He’s not an amateur. He flushes as he waits for Lloyd to reply, hoping that he hasn’t blown his shot with his poor choice of words.

“You tryna take over Hackney, Malik? Paul won’t be happy about that.”

“Is this gonna work for you? Because I can call someone else-”

“No, no. If you’ve got thirty five percent, it’s fine. I’ll send someone around later today. You gonna be at your new place?” Of course Lloyd knows about The Station. He didn’t get so far in the game by not paying attention to his surroundings. There’s change afoot in London’s criminal underground, and Lloyd can probably taste the shifting winds.

Zayn clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“Great.” And then Lloyd hangs up. Zayn exchanges his mobile for his pack of cigarettes. He lights up as he pushes through the crowd back towards The Station. Fuck, he thinks. This might actually work.

\------------

“You’re gonna regret this.”

“What? No! I love karaoke, you love karaoke. It’ll be a great time.”

“Yeah, but Haz and Lou are crazy. I don’t want them to scare you off.”

Liam notes that Niall doesn’t mention Malik. “They won’t.” He reaches across the table to lightly punch Niall in the shoulder. “I haven’t run away screaming yet, have I?”

Niall snorts into his beer. “It’s only a matter of time when you’re hanging out with these lads.”

“I’ll be fine. If that story about how they met didn’t scare me off, nothing will.”

“Oh, you mean when Harry blew Zayn in the bathroom but then went home with Louis later in the night?”

“Louis said that Harry made out with Zayn in the bathroom!” Liam squawks.

As if on cue, Tomlinson and Styles come loudly bursting through the door, Malik trailing closely behind them. Niall cackles at Liam’s shocked face and then turns to wave them over to their table. Tonight, the crew has ventured out of The Station to a nearby dingy pub for its weekly karaoke night. According to Niall, they haven’t missed a night since he first moved from Ireland to London.

“I never said that you couldn’t use my shampoo! I told you that it’s fine. And don’t tell me that it won’t work on your bloody curls, because it will. Hey, Niall. Liam,” Tomlinson spits out in one breath. Liam and Niall open their mouths to respond, but Tomlinson has already turned back to Styles. “So there’s really no excuse for not washing your hair for your first day of work. I mean, really Harry.”

“Your first day of work! How was it?” Niall cuts across Tomlinson, smiling encouragingly at Styles. Liam notices that Malik hangs back behind the animated duo, avoiding eye contact with everyone. Strange. Is notorious criminal Zayn Malik nervous? Because of him?

“Fine. I need a beer,” grumbles Harry. Tomlinson leans over to kiss him on the cheek, their earlier quarrel apparently already forgotten.

On me, babe. You’ve earned it.”

Malik mimes gagging and then speaks for the first time since walking into the pub. “You two get more and more sickening every day.” Tomlinson rolls his eyes and walks away to the bar, his hips swinging jauntily. Harry ignores Malik and sits down at the table next to Liam. Malik follows his lead and takes a seat next to Niall, as far away from Liam as possible.

“Just fine?” Niall presses, undeterred by Harry’s unresponsiveness.

“Yeah. I was just fetching coffee and making copies all day…so…..nothing exciting.”

“Well, you gotta work your way up.”

“Yeah, I know. It still fucking sucks.”

Tomlinson reappears surprisingly fast and clutching three beers. He hands one each to Styles and Malik, and then comically smacks his forehead. “Shit! Where are my manners? Liam, do you want a beer?”

“No, m’fine thanks. I had a bit too much to drink with you lads last night.”

Tomlinson smirks at him. “Yeah, it happens.”

Niall waves his hand in front of Tomlinson’s face to get his attention. “Hey, dickhead. Where’s my bloody beer?”

“Sod off. You’re still working on yours.”

Niall winks at him in response and then twists in his seat to talk to Harry again. Tomlinson takes a seat close to Liam.

“So….you gonna sing?” Tomlinson asks. Liam notices Malik glancing over at them, covertly eavesdropping as he sips at his beer. He turns slightly away from Malik in order to answer Tomlinson’s question.

“Maybe. I’m not much of a singer. But Harry said that Niall is.”

“Oh, yeah. Isn’t he, Zayn?” Tomlinson cuts his eyes over Liam’s shoulder, smirking at Malik. Apparently Liam hadn’t been the only one to notice Malik’s snooping.

“Yeah. Phenomenal.” Malik reaches over to punch Niall lightly, eerily mimicking Liam’s gesture from earlier. Liam feels his right hand twitch irritably. Calm down, you idiot. He’s just jumpy because Malik makes him nervous. Not because he hates seeing Malik’s hands on Niall.

“You flatter. But yeah,” Niall winks at Liam. “I’m definitely gonna sing a song tonight.”

“Not before I do!” Harry suddenly crows as he shoots up from the table, startling everyone. Malik curses as he slops beer all over himself.

“That beer certainly seemed to have revived you, Haz,” Tomlinson chuckles. Harry doesn’t hear his boyfriend, as he’s already moved off towards the makeshift stage at the front of the pub. Tomlinson looks after him with a big smile on his face, but then drops his head to look at the floor when he notices the other men looking at him.

Niall’s mouth also quirks up into a smile, and he leans in to murmur into Liam’s ear. “It’s been a really long time since Harry’s gotten up to sing at karaoke. It’s good that he’s more himself, y’know?” Liam nods, although he doesn’t quite understand. As Niall leans back into his chair, Liam catches Malik staring at them with burning eyes. What the fuck is up with this bloke? His musings are interrupted by the sound of Harry clearing his throat into the microphone.

“Um….so…..hi.”

“Hi!” The crowd brightly choruses back.

“So….um….I’m Harry Styles. I’m gonna be singing Sex on Fire, by The Kings of Leon. And…um….this song is dedicated to my boyfriend, Louis. Because….well….you guys get it. Right? The sex is on fire?” The crowd jeers in response. “Yeah. You get it. Okay. Here goes.” And then the steady, repetitive guitar chords of the song crackle out from the sound system.

Liam had started to cringe a bit at Harry’s awkward introduction, so he is wholly unprepared when Styles opens up his mouth and a husky, sexy singing voice pours out.

“Lay where you’re laying. Don’t make a sound. I know they’re watching…..they’re watching….all the commotion. The kiddie-like play. Has people talking, talking.”

Liam catches Niall’s eye. “Holy shit. Where did that come from?” Niall just winks at him and points back up at the stage, where Harry has reached the chorus.

“Youu…your sex is on fire. The dark of an alley. The breaking of day. The head while I’m driving. I’m driving. Soft lips are open, knuckles are pale. Feels like you’re dying, you’re dying.” And then Harry leans into the microphone, wraps his hands around it, and snarls into it. “Youuu….your sex is on fire.” The crowd erupts, and Niall pulls Liam to his feet with him. “Consumed,” And Harry leans forward even more, tilting the mic stand forward and whipping the hair out of his eyes with a shake of his head. “With what’s to transpire. Hot as a fever….rattling bones. I could just taste it, taste it. It’s not forever, if it’s just tonight. Oh it’s still the greatest… the greatest…the greatest.” And now the entire bar is singing along. “Youuu…your sex is on fire.” Harry straightens back up, pulling the mic with him, and bounces on the balls of his feet to the beat. “And youuu,” Harry growls out, pushing his sweaty curls off of his face as he stares down at his boyfriend. “Your sex is on fire. Consumed with what’s to transpire And youuuu,” And now he’s wrested the mic free of the stand and is bouncing across the stage as the drums kick back in. “Your sex is on fire. Consumed…with what’s to transpire.” Then Harry is thrusting his fist up into the air twice with the two ending beats, and abruptly folding in half for his bow. He doesn’t even pause to acknowledge the applause and cheers before he’s sweeping down from the stage.

“Err….’scuse me lads,” is all Tomlinson manages to squeak out before Harry reaches their table and grabs his wrist, pulling him purposefully towards the bathroom to the wolf whistles and cat calls of everyone else in the pub. As the din dies down, Liam again looks at Niall.

“I mean….holy shit. What?”

“Yeah, I know.” Niall grins at him. “Harry is full of surprises.”

“I see.” Liam dissolves into laughter as Niall companionably slings an arm around his shoulder. When he finally catches his breath and looks up, Malik is across the pub talking to striking girl with purple streaks in her bright blonde hair. He feels Niall’s arm tighten slightly about his shoulder and turns his head to look at him instead.

“How is anyone gonna follow that up?” Liam asks, hoping to distract Niall. He won’t get any information out of the man if he’s tense.

“I’m sure as hell not going to.”

“No! Come on! Everyone keeps telling me that you’re a great singer. I want to see for myself!”

Niall takes a sip of his beer and considers Liam carefully over the rim of his glass. “Okay,” he finally says. “But only if you get up there too.”

“Deal!” Liam sticks his hand out to shake Niall’s. Build trust, build camaraderie, Sergeant Kellen had said.

Niall seems surprised by Liam’s easy acquiescence, but takes his hand anyway. “You still so sure that you’re not gonna regret this, Parsons?”

Liam feels a twinge in his gut at the use of his fake name. I’m Liam Parsons right now, he thinks. I’m playing the part of Liam Parsons. This is not my real life, and Niall is not my real friend. But he forgets his worries as soon as those bright blue eyes catch his again.

A few songs later (none as good as Harry’s, of course), Tomlinson and Styles return giggling, breathless, and disheveled from the bathroom. Malik is still stationed on the opposite side of the pub with the blonde girl, and Liam notices that Tomlinson’s eyes dart briefly to them.

“That was fast,” Niall says, wiggling his eyebrows at his friends.

“They call it a quickie for a reason, my little Niall,” Louis snarks.

“Oh, Niall knows all about quickies in the loo,” Harry interjects.

Liam chokes violently on air at that comment, and Niall is distracted from hitting Harry as he instead pounds Liam on the back for the second time in as many nights. “You alright, mate?”

“Yep. Fine,” Liam gasps, clutching his throat.

“Choke on your invisible beer?” Tomlinson raises a delicate eyebrow at Liam. “Did it go down the wrong pipe?” Harry not-so-subtly kicks Tomlinson under the table, and Liam’s face turns a deep shade of red.

“Erm….”

“Sod off, Lou. Liam, you wanna go outside for a mo’? Smoke a cig?”

“Yes.” Liam manages to splutter out. He hopes that his eyes manage to convey his gratefulness. As they walk out, the eyes of Malik, Tomlinson, and Styles all follow them. They reach the patio of the bar, and Liam heaves a sigh of relief. His sigh quickly turns into a chattering of his teeth, which Niall notices immediately.

“Cold?” he asks. Liam nods frantically. “Here.” Niall pulls off his jumper and passes it to Liam. “Us Irish are warm-blooded.”

“Thanks,” Liam murmurs as he pulls the jumper over his head. A silent moment passes, and then Liam looks questioningly at Niall when he doesn’t pull out a pack of cigarettes.

“Um…I don’t….I don’t actually smoke much. I just wanted to get away from the Tommo. Figured you did too.”

Liam snorts. “Yeah. Thanks, mate.”

Niall nods at him and then leans forward, bracing his arms on the railing of the patio. Liam moves to stand next to him, copying his motions. There’s another moment of silence, and then Niall speaks again. “So….do I know you well enough to ask about your tattoos?” He’d first noticed them that first morning when Liam had cooked for him, and he’d gotten quite the eyeful at the lake other day. And now, his curiousity had been piqued when he spotted Liam’s ink covered forearms peeking out from his jumper as he put it on.

Liam shrugs. “I s’pose you do. I don’t really know how to explain them, though.”

Niall twists so that his back is at the railing and he’s looking up at Liam. “Try?”

“Well, this one,” Liam yanks up his left sleeve and holds out his arm for Niall to examine the looping script. “Says ‘Everything I wanted but nothing I’ll ever need.’ I guess it just reminds me that I’ll be fine no matter what happens....even if I lose everything I care about.”

Niall cocks his head and runs a finger lightly over the words. Liam feels something crackle up his arm and then down his spine, and tries desperately to ignore it. “This one...” He pulls up the right sleeve of Niall’s jumper. “I liked the pattern. I wanted to have a tatt on both forearms….balance it out or whatever.” Niall repeats his earlier motion and runs his fingers over the four chevrons marching up Liam’s arm.

Liam clears his throat and rolls the sleeves back down. “What about you?” he asks, trying to shift Niall’s attention away from him. Shift his hands away from his body. “Got any tattoos? I didn’t notice any when we were swimming.” Liam blushes at his own comment, biting his lip.

“No. I want to wait until I’m absolutely sure of what I want.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” There’s another silent pause, but this one is somehow pregnant with tension. Niall shuffles his feet, casts his eyes towards the ground, and, after a moment, speaks.

“S’pose we should go back in then. Th’lads will be wondering what we’re doin’ out here.” His voice sounds thicker, and his accent has come out a bit. Strange, thinks Liam. Wonder why.

“Sure.”


	9. So Sick

“Niall! Niall! Niall! Niall!”

“Shut up Lou. The whole pub is not gonna chant for Niall.” Malik snaps from his seat next to Harry. As soon as Niall had gotten up to sign up for karaoke, he had ditched the blonde girl in favor of sitting back at their table. Liam’s eyes, currently creased in concern as his fingers tap lightly on the table, dart nervously to him and then away again. He’s not quite sure how to deal with Malik without Niall close by. Luckily, his dilemma is solved when Niall bounces energetically onto stage.

“What’s happenin lads?” he booms into the microphone. Liam notices that Tomlinson’s eyes flick over to Malik, who has suddenly gone rigid in his chair. Odd, he thinks. Malik has been tense all night, but he seems to be particularly uncomfortable now that Niall has taken the stage. “I’m gonna sing some Ne-Yo for you tonight.” Niall’s statement is met with some appreciative cheers, and he winks cheekily at the audience as his accompanying music begins to play.

“Gotta change my answerin machine, now that I’m alone. Cuz right now it says that we can’t come to the phone. And I know it makes no sense, cuz you walked out the door. But it’s the only way I hear your voice anymore.”

Liam sits up straighter in his chair, the skin on the back of his neck prickling. As surprised as he had been when Harry had started to sing, he’s even more surprised now. Where Harry’s voice is low and husky, Niall’s is as clear and beautiful as a bell. Niall notes his surprise and sends one of his brilliant smiles towards him as he continues to sing.

“It’s ridiculous. It’s been months, for some reason I just…can’t get over us. And I’m stronger than this. No more walkin around with my head down. I’m so over bein blue, cryin over you.” Niall closes his eyes, leans into the mic, and belts out the chorus. “And I’m so sick of love songs, so tired of tears. So done with wishin you were still here. Said I’m so sick of love songs, so sad and slow. So why can’t I turn off the radio?”

And then Liam gets it. Niall is singing about Malik. He looks over at the other man, who is still sitting rigidly in his chair. He hasn’t moved an inch since Niall first came on the stage. As Liam looks away from Malik, he catches Harry’s gaze. Harry cocks his head questioningly, and Liam blushes in response. Harry just gives him a small, sad smile in return before turning back to watch Niall.

“Gotta fix that calendar I have, that’s marked July fifteenth. Because since there’s no more you, there’s no more anniversary. I’m so fed up with my thoughts of you, and your memory. And now every song reminds me of what used to be.” Niall pauses, and his eyes flit open. “That’s the reason I’m so sick of love songs, so tired of tears. So done with wishin you were still here. Said I’m so sick of love songs, so sad and slow. So why can’t I turn off the radio?” Liam looks back at Malik, whose hands are now tightly curled into balls in his lap.

“Leave me alone, stupid love songs. Don’t make me think about his smile, or havin my first child.” At the use of the male pronoun, Niall’s catches Liam’s gaze and holds it. Liam blushes again, but this time he’s not quite sure why.

“I’m letting go, turning off the radio.” And then Niall rips the mic out of the stand just as Harry had done earlier. However, he remains rooted in the same spot, hands clasped tight around the mic as he wails into it.

“Cuz I’m so sick of love songs, so tired of tears. So done with wishin he was still here. Said I’m so sick of love songs, so sad and slow. So why can’t I turn of the radio?” Wolf whistles of appreciation issue from the crowd as Niall hits a particularly high, clear note.

“And I’m so sick of love songs, so tired of tears. So done with wishin he was still here. Said I’m so sick of love songs, so sad and slow. Why can’t I turn off the radio?”

Tomlinson waves a hand at Niall and screeches, “You tell ‘em, lad!” “And I’m so sick of love songs,” The music cuts out and the crowd begins to clap along with the beat of the music. “So tired of tears. So done with wishin you were still. Said I’m so sick of love songs, so sad and slow. So why can’t I turn off the radio?” And then Niall’s eyes slip shut again and his voice lowers into a murmur. “Why can’t I turn off the radio?”

The rhythmic clapping of the crowd melds into enthusiastic applause and Niall sweeps into flippant bow, a huge grin stretched across his face.

“Maybe now they’ll chant Niall’s name!” Tomlinson sniggers. Malik abruptly pushes his chair back and shoots to his feet as Niall comes down from the stage.

“I have to go,” Malik is talking to them, but his eyes are fixed on Niall. Harry snatches Malik’s wrist before he can move away. Liam glances between the two of them anxiously. Sergeant Kellen and Dani had told him to ingratiate himself with the boys, but now he seems to be in the middle of a conflict again. Shit. He has the worst luck. Or maybe he just sucks at this whole undercover thing.

“No, Zayn!” Harry pleads, still clinging to Malik.

“I know when I’m not welcome. He fucking mocks me while introducing himself and then he sings that song to me? There’s no fucking way….” Malik trails off and then seems to gather himself, his chest puffing out in anger. “I’m out of here,” he growls, pushing Harry away as he ignores the other man’s big, begging eyes.

“Not everything is about you, Zayn.” Tomlinson snaps.

“Maybe not. But that little stunt sure was-”

“He was looking at Liam while he was singing.” Everyone’s eyes snap to Harry, who claps a hand comically over his mouth. “Erm…I mean…” The curly haired man spreads his hands apologetically. “Maybe the lyrics are a little too….erm…angsty for him to be singing about someone he met a week ago. But he was looking at Liam.”

Liam can hear a faint roaring sound in his ears, and his vision is momentarily obscured by bright white spots. He shakes his head, clearing it just in time to see Malik whirl on his heel and disappear into the crowd without another word.

Harry blushes and Tomlinson turns to look thoughtfully at Liam. Tomlinson looks as if he’s about to speak to Liam, but then Niall is in their midst. Surprisingly, Harry recovers first. “Great song, mate!” He exclaims. Niall smiles at him and reaches out to ruffle his curls.  
“Thanks, Haz.” He looks at Liam, but doesn’t say anything to him. Instead, he hold his gaze for a beat before turning instead to Tomlinson. “Where’s Zayn?”

“He had to leave. I think he went home with Perrie.” Tomlinson has a perfect poker face. Maybe he actually is a psychopath, Liam absently reflects.

Niall nods at his response, his face studiously blank, and then turns back to Liam. “So….you’re up next. I already signed you up.”

“I don’t know….”

“We made a deal! You promised!”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to break a promise to you.” Liam means for his words to be playful, but he finds that they cause something in his gut to twist. Dani and Kellen would approve, he thinks. Establish trust with the target.

Niall smiles approvingly at him, which is what finally makes him get up from the table. He can’t refuse that smile.

“There’s no way that I can show you and Harry up. You two are both ridiculously talented.” Harry simply waves him off, too busy with his beer to speak.

“Stop stalling. Get up there!”

Liam grins and shakes a finger at Niall in warning. “Remember, you asked for it.” Tomlinson, who had remained suspiciously quiet during the entire exchange, snorts into his beer.

“What exactly is Niall asking of you?” he asks. Before Liam can reply, Niall grabs him by the elbow and throws him towards the stage.

“Come on Parsons! Go get em!”

And then Liam is making his way to the sound booth at the front of the pub. “Excuse me, mate. You probably don’t get this a lot...but do you have any Michael Buble?”

Back at the table, the smile drops from Niall’s face as he turns to glare at Louis. “Could you cut it out with the snide comments all the time?” Harry looks over at them and quickly decides to look back down at his beer. Niall and Louis ignore him, as they’ve both learned to leave him out of any sort of confrontation.

“What on earth could you be talking about, dear?”

“Cut the shit Lou. I really like Liam. I don’t want to fuck it up, and I certainly don’t want you to fuck it up.”

“Fuck what up, exactly? He’s straight! He’s never gonna fuck you!”

“Uhhhh….hey.” The sound of Liam’s voice issuing from the stage is enough to distract Niall before he can respond to Louis’s dig. “I’m Liam Parsons. Please go easy on me…Niall made me get up here.” The crowd laughs and, just like that, Liam’s peculiar mix of charm and awkwardness has won them over. Just as it seems to have won Niall over, Louis muses. The song starts up and Harry finally looks up from his beer.

“Damn….this is an ambitious song.”

“Now, you say you’re lonely. You cried the whole night through. Well, you can cry…me a river. Cry me a river. I cried a river over you.” Liam’s posture is solemn, and his puppy brown eyes are earnest. He’s caught everyone’s attention with the sound of his full, round voice. The sound of the crowd dies down as the patrons of the pub begin to listen.

“And now, you say you’re sorry….for being so untrue. Well, you can cry….me a river. Cry me a river. Cuz I cried a river over you.” Niall grins encouragingly and gives two thumbs up to Liam, who seems to relax a bit. He leans into the mic and let his eyes slip partly shut, his head nodding along to the beat.

“You drove me nearly out of my head…while you never shed a tear babe. Remember…I remember all that you said. You told me love was too plebeian....”

“What does that mean?” Harry whispers to Louis. Niall slaps the back of his head.

“Shut up,” he hisses.

“You told me you were through with me.” Liam pauses and the music builds to a crescendo. He gathers himself, and belts out the chorus just as impressively as Niall had earlier. “And now, you say you love me.” The crowd whoops in approval. “Well, just to prove that you do….why don’t you cry me a river? Cry me a river. Cuz I cried a river over you, over you. You say you love me, but you lie. ” Niall leans forward, hand cupped in his chin. Liam catches his gaze again, and Niall nods at him in reassurance. Liam takes a deep breath and pulls the microphone from the stand, walking closer to the front of the stage as he does so.

“Now, you say you love me. Well, just to prove that you do. Come on and cry, me a river. Oh, cry me a river. I cried a river over you. I cried…a river…over you. I cried a river. Now you can too. Cry me a river. Cry me,” The crowd erupts into cheers as Liam’s voice rises. “A river.” The cheers turn into a standing ovation as the pub comes to its feet.

“Well that was dramatic,” Louis remarks, glancing at Niall. However, Niall refuses to rise to the bait and simply stares at Liam as he makes his way down off the stage and back across the pub towards them. Louis shoots a loaded look at Harry, who simply shrugs.

“That was bloody terrifying. And brilliant! I’m so glad you made me do it!” And Liam is back at their table, pulling Niall into a hug as he babbles at him. “I was so nervous, but it was awesome! So awesome! Aces, mate!” Niall laughs and pats his back, but it’s not Niall’s normal laugh. Usually he laughs without abandon and with his whole body, but this laugh sounds a bit strained.

“You did a great job, mate. Didn’t see tha’ coming. ‘Not a great singer’ me arse.” There it is again, notes Liam. The thickened accent. Why is it there again?

As usual, Louis butts in. “Can I buy you a drink? That was fantastic!”

“Still no. Thanks, though.” Louis nods his head in acknowledgement and turns back to Harry, but not before he arches an eyebrow pointedly at Niall.

The Tommo’s finally gone mad, Niall thinks despairingly. He decides not to worry about Louis, and instead attempts to smile at Liam. It comes out more like a pained grimace. And it is painful to be so close to Liam and still not be allowed to touch him. Especially after hearing him sing like that. Niall will be damned if that wasn’t the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. He clears his throat and finally speaks. “So….yeah…I’m glad you got up there.”

“Me too. Thanks for making me.”

“Any time.” Niall stops and clears his throat again. “Hey, look. It’s getting late…I’m gonna make it an early night. But I’ll talk to you soon, yeah?”

Liam blinks confusedly, caught off guard. He had thought that the evening was going so well, but now Niall is bouncing up on his toes in his eagerness to get out of the pub. What went wrong? Why doesn’t Niall want to hang out with him? “Yeah, okay,” he says uncertainly. “Soon.”

“Soon.” And then Niall’s gone.

“Hey, lads.” Liam catches the attention of Harry and Louis, who appear to be muttering into each other’s mouths. “Niall just left…” Harry and Louis whip their heads at that to look around the pub, but fail to spot him. “….so I’m gonna take off as well.”

“You sure? You could…erm…hang with us? If you wanted…” Harry offers.

“No, thanks. You two have fun.”

“Bye, Liam me heart,” Louis says cheekily. “See ya Louis. Harry.” Liam nods at them, and winds through the crowd towards the door as the next singer takes the stage. It’s not until he’s halfway back to his flat that he realizes he’s still wearing Niall’s jumper.

\-------------------------------------------------------

“I’m glad that you didn’t forget to check in tonight.”

“Come on, Dani. I said that I was sorry. What else do you want?” Liam pulls off his socks and sits on the edge of his bed. The only sound in his empty flat is that of his own voice.

“I want you to take this seriously and to follow protocol.”

“Dani! Of course I’m taking this seriously! I’m sitting alone in a bloody flat in Hackney. I don’t like this any more than you do. In fact, I think that it was your idea to put me all alone in a flat in Hackney.” There’s silence at the end of the other line. Liam pauses, sighs, and folds over at the waist. He puts his free hand over his eyes and braces his forearm on his knees. “I’m sorry. That was a low blow.”

“I thought we got past this, Li.”

“We did….I’m sorry. I’m under a lot of stress and it makes me snappy….”

“I know babe.” For the first time in what feels like years to Liam, Dani’s voice softens. “The sooner you get some usable intell on Malik the sooner you can blow your cover.”

Blow his cover. An image of bright blue eyes flashes unbidden across his mind’s eye. He rubs his forehead. “I don’t really want to talk about Malik right now.”

“Well, it’s your job to talk about him.” And, just like that, her voice has hardened again.

“I didn’t learn anything tonight. Well…I did…but nothing that will help you-us. Us. I…uh…I had some suspicions about his relationship with Ni-Horan and tonight confirmed them. They used to be romantically involved, and it seems to have ended badly a while ago.”

Again, there’s silence. After a few moments, Danielle speaks. “Alright. We might be able to use that to our advantage somehow. Are you still on good terms with Horan? More so than the other three?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“I’ll talk to Sergeant Kellen. We’ll let you know how you ought to proceed.” There’s another pause, and Liam lies down on his bed. He folds a hand behind his head and stares up at the ceiling. When he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that he’s back in his flat with Danielle.

Her voice sounds in his ear, softer this time. “I miss you, Liam.”

“I miss you too. You buy that turtle yet?”

“Yeah. The people at the pet shop said that it’s a girl.”

“What’s her name?”

“I haven’t named her yet…I wanted to wait for you.”

Liam swallows hard against the tears that suddenly fill up his eyes. “Okay,” he chokes out. “We’ll name her when I…when I come home.”

“You’re going to come home, Liam.”

“I know.”

“I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”  
But that night, Liam dreams of bright blue eyes and fishing instead of turtles and Danielle’s beautiful smile.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Liam decides to drop off Niall’s jumper before he’s due at the coffee shop for his shift. The Station seems so less imposing in the morning, its cavernous interior filled with natural light as he pushes past the door. Inside, he finds nothing but Malik stationed behind the bar. The last of London’s nighttime revelers have long since stumbled home, and the dark haired man is currently focused on polishing the smooth, dark wood of the bar.

“Um….hey.” Malik looks up smoothly (does he move like liquid even when startled?) and raises an eyebrow. He lifts one perfect eyebrow, but says nothing in reply. Liam swallows and plows nervously ahead. “I’m….uh….I’m looking for Niall? He lent me his jacket last night and then I forgot about it…so….”

Malik finally takes pity on him (or becomes impatient with his stammering, he can’t tell which) and flicks his eyes briefly towards the ceiling. “He’s upstairs.”

“Okay! Great! Thanks,” Liam says, giddy with nerves. He walks behind the bar, brushes gingerly past Malik, and pushes past a second door. He shuffles up a rickety staircase, pausing as he reaches the top. What is the sound coming from behind the door? Whatever. Again, he opens the door.

Momentarily confused by the scene in front of him, he promptly freezes. There’s a single, narrow bed up against the far wall. Niall’s in it, and he can see the pale white of his ass. But Niall’s hips are moving back and forth in a steady rhythm, and there’s a muscular body underneath his, and Niall’s got someone else’s forearms pinned beneath his hands….

“Shit!” Liam whirls around and grabs for the door, but succeeds only in pulling it straight into his face. “Fuck!” He doubles over in pain, clutching his eye.

“Liam?” He hears Niall’s shocked voice from somewhere behind him.

“Fuck, I am so sorry. Bloody hell. I didn’t see….I’m just gonna-” And then he finally lurches out of Niall’s room without a glance back, slamming the door behind him. He stumbles down the stairs and back through the door. Malik has ceased polishing the bar, and now he’s perched on top of it with a smirk on his face. Liam rears to a stop when he sees him, a hand still over his sore eye as he addresses the man. “Um….I….um…”

Malik says nothing, and continues to look at him with that shit eating grin on his face. He knew, Liam realizes. He knew that Niall had someone in there, and he sent me up anyway. At first he’s confused, and then he’s angry. Only his police training saves him from displaying his emotions on his face. He breathes out slowly, takes his hand down from his eyes, and straightens up.

“Can I leave Niall’s jumper here with you? He’s…uh…busy. So.” Before Malik can answer Liam, the sound of feet pounding heavily down the staircase reaches them. Niall comes bursting through the door (fully clothed, thankfully), a tall man with dark eyes and short hair trailing closely behind him. Liam blushes slightly and drops his eyes to the floor. Shit. He really doesn’t want to deal with this.

“Um…sorry. I didn’t mean to walk in on you. I wanted to give you your jumper back-” To Liam’s surprise, Niall wheels to Malik and cuts across his frantic stream of babble.

“Were you down here when Liam came through?” After a beat, Malik crosses his arms and nods stiffly at Niall. “And you just let him behind the bar and sent him up to my room?” Another stiff nod. “What the fuck Zayn?”

“Why the fuck do you care if he sees you giving it up the ass to some random bloke?”

Liam’s blush deepens, and Niall starts to move towards Malik. His fists are clenched and his face is a blotchy red. The other man, who Liam had momentarily forgotten, awkwardly clears his throat and speaks up before Niall can reach Malik. “Is this some kind of three way love spat or.....?” He wilts under the withering glares sent to him by both Malik and Niall. “Ohhhh….kay. I’m just gonna get out of here. Niall, you should-”

“He’s not going to call you,” snaps Malik, his eyes trained back on Niall.

“Right. Got it.” The stranger hesitates, but then pipes up again. “You guys are fucked up.” And with that, he shoves past the three of them and leaves The Station. Why does he look familiar, muses Liam. His question is answered by Malik a moment later.

“That bloke looked awfully like our new friend Liam here. Short hair, brown eyes, tall, muscular….”

“Fuck you, Zayn,” Niall spits out, his eyes filling with angry tears. And then he’s turning around, dashing back up the stairs. Liam glances over at Malik, who looks imperiously down at him from his perch on the bar. It’s painfully clear who’s won this round. Liam feels a bit dazed. He pulls off Niall’s jumper, dumps it in a pile on top of the bar, and then walks wordlessly out of the bar. He can feel Malik’s eyes boring into the back of his head the entire way.


	10. Gaining Their Motherfucking Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Drug use and references to suicide and violence.

One month later.

“You said that you wouldn’t bitch out, mate.”

“Shut the fuck up, Zayn. I’m not bitching out. But it was stupid to put Louis in charge of getting the van.”

“His cousin drives a delivery van! Lou said that it would be easy to borrow it. He’ll be here.” Zayn wishes that he feels as confident as he sounds. He glances over at Niall, who’s crouched close to the ground next to him. The two men are dressed in almost identical black clothes in order to blend into the dark shadows of a rundown warehouse, deep in the slums of East London. A police siren sounds somewhere in the distance, but it only serves to calm Zayn’s nerves. If the pigs are distracted, they won’t come cruising around nearby.

“He better hurry the fuck up then,” snaps Niall.

“Be quiet,” Zayn hisses back. He holds his breath in anticipation, but Niall doesn’t say anything in response. Things have been tense between them ever since that bloke Liam entered the picture, especially after Zayn had taunted Niall about bringing home a look alike right in front of Liam himself. Luckily, Niall still accepts Zayn’s lead in the field. Which is the only place that it matters, really.

There’s a noise in the little alley next to the abandoned warehouse, and the two men whip around towards it. Niall crouches even lower to the ground, and Zayn reaches for the knife at his hip. But it’s only Louis, cruising slowly forward in a white delivery van. Zayn holds a hand up, and Louis glides to a stop. Zayn nods at Niall, and the two men turn to walk noiselessly back towards the warehouse. They sidle up to a side door, which Zayn knocks against. Four slow knocks. Just as instructed. There’s a pause, and Zayn turns to look at Niall, his eyes shining in the dark. Zayn lives for moments like these, lives for the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The door cracks open, and the whites of another man’s eyes appear. Zayn can feel Niall’s body tense up next to his, and he reaches down to grab his forearm. He gives it a reassuring squeeze and feels Niall’s muscles relax beneath his fingers. The man behind the door speaks. “A-salaam walaikum.”

“Walaikum a-salaam.” Zayn doesn’t know if Lloyd chose a traditional Arab greeting as a password in deference to him or to insult him. He also doesn’t know if Lloyd realizes that he speaks Farsi, not Arabic. Or maybe Lloyd does know, and he’s just fucking with him. In any case, it’s a terrible password as anyone with any rudimentary knowledge of Arabic would respond to that statement just as Zayn himself had. But the password is the least of his worries right now. The man widens the crack, and Zayn slips through, Niall close behind him. Zayn doesn’t let go of his forearm, and Niall doesn’t pull away.

“It’s all here.” The man speaks, his voice a low rasp. “My boss said that he got your wire transfer this morning, so you’re good to go.”

“Very good.” The man disappears wordlessly out the side door. Zayn and Niall grope forward through the darkness. After a few minutes of tense silence (in which Zayn mentally curses Lloyd for fleecing them), they blindly stumble over a small pile of boxes stacked in the middle of the warehouse. Zayn tightens his grip on Niall’s forearm to prevent him from moving forward. When their eyes finally adjust to the darkness (because flashlight beams would look suspicious in the abandoned stretch of warehouses), the two men move forward. They carefully grab a few boxes each and stagger back out to the van. Louis has gotten out of the vehicle, and is now standing look out on the corner.

They load the boxes onto the van quickly, and Louis hops back up into the cab of the van as soon as they finish. Niall and Zayn climb into the back with the drugs, and Zayn leans forward to pull the doors of the truck shut behind them. He bangs on the side of the truck and it inches forward. Zayn settles back on his haunches. He can barely make out the white of Niall’s eyes across from him, the gleam of his hair. He reaches out impulsively to touch the fair strands, and Niall’s eyes flicker shut for a beat longer than normal before they open again. When Zayn discerns no other reaction from Niall, he frowns to himself in the darkness and folds his hands back in his lap. He really ought to keep his hands to himself.

The sky is still black when the truck arrives at The Station. The three men leap out of the truck and proceed to pull out the boxes. It’s not unusual for a bar to receive shipments in the very early morning, but they still work quickly to avoid attracting any undue attention. When they finish loading the boxes into the storeroom underneath the bar, the dawn sky is streaked with gray. Louis pours a glass of water from the tap behind the bar and sits down to drink it, pulling off his sweat soaked shirt. Zayn catches Niall’s gaze and jerks his chin towards the back exit. “Fancy a cigarette?” Niall shrugs and wordlessly follows Zayn outside. Zayn offers Niall the pack first, and then leans in to light the cigarette for him. Anything to get his hands close to Niall’s face for the second time this morning.

Niall takes a drag from his cigarette and leans up against the bricks of The Station, propping one leg up behind him as he exhales. For a second, Zayn sees in his mind’s eye a scruffy blonde kid with bad brown roots, wrapped in an oversized orange vest and standing in the exact same position outside of a seedy pub. Niall, on the first night he met him. Zayn shakes his head to clear the image from his mind, and clutches his pack of Marlboros. His hands tremble slightly as he lights his own cigarette, and he hopes that Niall doesn’t notice. They smoke in silence for a few moments, and Zayn waits for the nicotine to give him the nerve to speak.

“I…uh….I’m sorry.” Niall looks at him skeptically and still refrains from speaking. It’s not like the Irishman to stay quiet for so long. “For giving you such a hard time about that Liam bloke. It was uncalled for.” Niall stares at him for another moment before laughing. He chokes on his lungful of smoke and bends over, wheezing. Zayn starts forward to pound on his back.

“It took you…” Niall coughs again and places a hand on his burning chest. “That long to apologize? _Four _bloody weeks?”__

“Hey, at least I _am _apologizing!” Zayn exclaims indignantly.__

Niall continues to laugh. “Christ. You are the most prideful man I’ve ever met.”

“That’s why you love me.” The words are supposed to be a joke, but they taste bitter in Zayn’s mouth. Niall doesn’t reply. Instead he looks away and raises the cigarette to his mouth for another drag. Zayn takes a breath and tries again. “I just….I don’t trust him.” Niall looks back towards him at that, narrowing his eyes. “But you do!” Zayn says hastily. “You trust him, and that should be good enough for me. It is good enough for me.”

Niall dips his head in acknowledgement. “Thank you.” Zayn opens his mouth to speak, hesitates, and is interrupted by the sound of loud voices inside The Station. Niall’s eyes snap back up to his. “What the-” He doesn’t bother finishing his sentence. The two men drop their cigarettes and dash through the back door.

“What in the bloody hell are you doing here?” It’s Harry, standing in the front door of The Station.

Louis jumps up from his seat. “I didn’t want to wake you-”

“Wake me? I woke up and you were gone….and I find you here? What the fuck are you doing at the bar at six in the morning?” He looks behind Louis, and catches sight of Zayn and Niall standing sheepishly at the other door. “They’re…..they’re here too?” Harry looks dumbfounded. “Why are they….” His eyes widen in confusion as he looks back at Louis, who has dropped his head to the ground. “It’s not…. _Louis _.” He says it desperately, pleadingly, but Louis refuses to look up at him. “Lou…it’s not….heroin. Is it?” His deep, gravelly voice climbs higher in panic with his query. Louis bites his lip in response. Niall and Zayn exchange a look. Zayn nudges him forwards and pulls the door shut behind them. He doesn’t need anyone outside to hear this.__

“It is. What the fuck, Lou. You promised that you wouldn’t-” At that, Louis finally snaps his head back up.

“Yeah, I did promise,” he snarls. “But somebody’s gotta pay the bills while you’re fucking around at the radio station.”

“Fucking around at the…is that what you think of my internship? I’m finally trying to do something for myself, and that’s what you think of it?”

“Oh, you’re finally trying to do something for yourself. I’m doing this for you!”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re not dealing drugs for me.” Niall looks over at Zayn nervously. They’ve heard Harry and Louis fight before, but they’ve never seen Harry so mad at Loius before.

Louis huffs angrily. “I am, Harry. I do everything for you. I shot Mickey O’Toole in his bloody kneecap because he got you hooked on heroin again.”

“You sure you didn’t do it because I was fucking him?” Louis’s face crumples at that, but Harry continues. “Because if it was because of the heroin, you might as well shoot yourself…since you’re back in the business with Zayn,” Harry spits out venomously. Zayn, Niall, and Louis all freeze. There’s a moment of frigid tension, and then Louis snaps. He steps towards Harry, his fists clenched.

“Shoot myself like _you _tried to shoot yourself?” At that, Niall starts towards Louis, but Zayn grabs him and shakes his head firmly. This isn’t their fight. “Have you forgotten who stopped you from putting a bullet in your brain last year?”__

“That’s how you see yourself, huh,” Harry growls as he, too, steps forward. His movement brings them almost chest to chest. “My fucking savior. The big man.” He sneers down at Louis. “You think that you saved me from addiction, that you you saved me from killing myself...” His growls grow into shouts. “You saved me from Mickey, and now you’re gonna save me by running drugs with Zayn?”

Louis puffs out his chest, refusing grant Harry gain any advantage due to his height. “Yes, Harold. I am saving you. You can say thank you, now.” Harry’s mouth draws into an angry line, and he steps back.

“I never bloody asked you to save me.” And then he’s turning away from Louis, walking out of The Station. Louis moves as if to go after him, but Niall rips himself out of Zayn’s grip and shoves past him.

“I’ve got it.”

Zayn turns to Louis. “It’s not too early for a drink,” he says softly, gesturing at the shelves full of brightly colored liquor. Louis smiles grimly back at him, lips pressed tightly together.

“Is it too early for a bump of that shit we just brought in?” Zayn looks at him for a beat, and then throws an arm around his neck and leads him down into the storeroom.

Outside, Niall catches up with Harry. “Harry! Harry! Wait!”

Niall grabs his arm, and Harry yanks it away as he abruptly whirls around. “What the hell do you want?”

“I know you’re upset. You have every right to be. But you shouldn’t be alone right now-”

“What, are you afraid that I’ll _put a bullet in my brain _?” Harry raises the pitch of his voice, mocking Louis.__

Niall shushes him and looks around anxiously. He doesn’t want to cause a disturbance in the street so early in the morning; they don’t need to draw any extra attention to The Station while there’s a kilo of heroin in the storeroom.

“You’re all fucking idiots. Do you think that Paul’s not gonna come after you when you start selling drugs in his territory? Because he will. He’ll kill you, and he’ll burn that bloody bar to the ground. He’s been lookin’ for an excuse to do it for a while now. You know it, and I know it.”

“You’re right…you’re right. But this was always the plan. We opened The Station so that we could use it to launder drug money.”

Harry clenches his fists and draws a deep, shaky breath in through his nose. “Louis said that he wouldn’t get involved. He knew what you and Zayn were doing and he promised-” Harry’s voice breaks, and he drops his head into his hands. He abruptly folds down onto the side walk, and Niall drops down to his side, reaching out a hand to steady him.

“Woah, woah. Hey. Look at me. Look at me, Harry.” Niall slides a hand under Harry’s chin and tilts his face up. He reaches his other hand up to gently wipe away the tears that have begun to collect on Harry’s face.

“I won’t let anything happen to Louis. Okay? I promise. And I won’t let you anywhere near those drugs.”

Harry nods, moving his head back and forth in Niall’s firm grip. “I’m still mad at him,” he whispers. “I’m working really hard to stay clean, and now he’s back in the business-”

“I know….shhhh.” Niall wraps his arms around Harry and slowly rocks him back and forth. “It’s going to be alright.”

\------------------------------------------------------

Two months later.

Liam’s been undercover for four months now, and it hasn’t gotten any easier. His days are a mundane blur of going to work at the coffee shop and cooking dinner alone in his flat. Every now and then, Niall will ring him up and they’ll go for a pint at the sports bar around the corner. His only other human contact comes in the form of his weekly check ins with Dani and Kellen, and he hasn’t seen Malik, Styles, or Tomlinson since he walked in on Niall and his companion at The Station.

“Dani, I don’t see the point. I haven’t gotten any closer to them. If anything, I’m less close to them now than when I started.” Liam balances the burn phone against his shoulder as he makes yet another peanut butter sandwich for dinner (he’d gotten sick of pasta after his first month undercover).

“Be patient. We’re not going to yank you out now….we’ve spent too much time and money on the mission to compromise it so soon.”

“I haven’t gathered any intel on Malik. For all we know, he could be running a kilo of heroin through that bar a week.”

“So get Horan to invite you out again with the others.”

“He won’t. I’m trying-”

“So try harder.”

Liam pauses at that. “Yes, Sergeant.”

“Don’t pull that shit with me every time we have a conversation, Liam. I’m your commanding officer. I can’t always treat you like my boyfriend.”

“I know.” Liam pauses again, finishes making his sandwich. “And I’ll try harder.”

“Good.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too. Hang in there.” And then Dani’s gone. Liam pads back to his bedroom to put the burn phone back in the bedside table. As he walks by the bed, he notices that the screen of his other phone is lit up with a text message.

_Hey man come by th bar tonite. Were celebrating _. Niall. He grins and grabs the phone to text back.__

_What r we celebrating _?__

The reply comes instantly. _You’ll see _:)__

Liam grins to himself and grabs his burn phone again. “Dani? Hey. Niall just texted me. He invited me out to The Station tonight. The other blokes will probably be there and-”

“Niall?”

“Horan. You know who I mean.”

“That’s great, Li. Be careful, and check in with us when you get back tonight.”

“Will do. Love you.”

“Bye.”

Liam tosses the burn phone in the drawer of his bedside table and grabs his other phone again.

_See u soon _, he taps out to Niall. He puts the phone down and practically dances towards his bathroom to take a shower. The excitement bubbling in his stomach has a lot to do with the anticipation of seeing a certain blonde, but he tells himself that he’s just happy to have something to do. And hopefully he’ll be able to gather some intel while he’s at it.__

“Alright, alright! Louis! Shut up! I’m trying to make a toast,” Zayn shouts above the raucous noise of The Station’s patrons. Louis, Niall, and Harry all grin at him from their seats in the private booth. “Hold your fucking drinks up, motherfuckers.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“You drunk already, Zayney?”

“I said shut up, Lou. Now.” Zayn struggles out of the booth and moves to stand on the cushioned bench. “Shit!” he curses as he wobbles. Niall grabs at one of his calves to steady him, and Zayn smiles down at him. Niall refuses to meet his eyes, but he doesn’t let go of his leg.

“Where was I? Oh, yeah. A toast! Here’s to us, lads. And to our booming business! Err….businesses, really. Cheers!”

“Here, here!” crows Louis, placing his hand over Harry’s as he drinks. Zayn climbs back down into the booth and clinks his glass with Niall’s before he drinks. Niall winks at him and leans back to drink, but is interrupted by the beeping of his phone. He slides it deftly out of his pocket and glances at the screen.

“Ah! Liam s’here.” Zayn narrows his eyes at Niall’s announcement. The Irishman’s accent becomes more pronounced when he drinks, but it’s much too early in the night for his brogue to be that thick. Actually, now that Zayn thinks about it, he’s only ever heard Niall sound like that when they were in bed together……goddamnit. Before Zayn can process this information, Niall’s looking up from his phone. “I’m gonna go get ‘em. Be righ’ back.”

Niall slithers out of the booth and pushes his way to the bar, where Liam is waiting. “No, no! Don’ order anythin’. Zayn got us a pitcher.” He grabs Liam’s wrist and tows him back through the bar. “Come on.” When they reach the boot, Niall bows exaggeratedly and motions for Liam to go in front of him. Liam climbs up, and is immediately assaulted by Louis’ screeches.

“Liam, me heart! It’s been too long! What, three months? Did we really make such a bad impression?”

“No, not at all.” Liam slides in next to Louis and Harry. Niall jumps up behind him and sits down next to Zayn, on the other side of the table. “I…uh…I’ve been busy.” He looks over at Niall, who’s carefully studying the brick above his head. “With…work. And stuff.”

“Work and stuff. Huh. Us too! That’s why we’re celebrating actually.” Louis tips his glass towards Zayn. “This fellow’s little business venture has just turned a profit.”

“The Station?” Liam asks. Fish for information. Zayn snorts into his glass at Liam’s question, and Louis grins slyly at Niall.

“Yeah, that too. So drink up!” Harry leans into Louis to murmur something in his ear, diverting his attention. Zayn takes the opportunity to pour another glass of beer from their pitcher and slide it down the table to Liam.

“Here you go, mate.” An apology of sorts. Liam takes the glass and accepts the apology. He nods at Zayn and, raising the beer to his lips, takes a cautious sip.

“It’s good!” He exclaims, pleasantly surprised. He holds the glass away, inspecting it carefully.

“Yeah.” Zayn shrugs. “It’s imported from a little brewery in Ireland. Niall picked it out.” And with that, things are fine between them. Niall smiles approvingly at Liam, and reaches across the table to briefly grasp his wrist. Zayn’s eyes flicker towards Niall’s milky white hand on Liam’s arm, and then back down to his own beer. He doesn’t say anything.

“So, Zayn!” Louis turns away from his whispered conversation with Harry and addresses his friend. “What’s the plan for tonight?”

Zayn smiles, grateful for the distraction. “I thought that we could hit up a few bars and then head over to The Shoreditch House. Perrie’s rented a couple of rooms and the rooftop, and she’s throwing a bit of a shindig.”

Harry’s smile brightens. “The Shoreditch? That’s a nice place.” Liam nods in agreement. He looks over at Niall who, he’s surprised to see, is scowling into his beer.

“Yeah, well, she’s bored and she’s got money to spare. Should be a fun time.” Zayn swallows down the rest of his beer. Liam pretends not to notice that Niall looks up from his beer to follow the graceful line of Zayn’s throat with his eyes. “You lads ready to hit the road?”

“Definitely!” Harry yelps. Louis grins and musses Harry’s curls.

“Let’s go then. Our rides are outside.” Niall’s brow furrows at that.

“Did you already call a taxi?”

“You’ll see.” Zayn smirks roguishly, and Liam frowns a bit to himself. It really isn’t fair that Zayn is so handsome. But then he has no more time to think about Zayn’s good looks because everyone is piling out of the booth and shoving their way across the dance floor towards the door.

Once they’re outside of The Station, Zayn strolls a few feet down the darkened road. “This is us, lads,” he yells back to them.

“No fucking way,” Louis squeaks as he freezes in place. Liam slams into his back, unprepared for his abrupt halt. He peeks around the shorter man. Four new, gleaming sports bikes are parked at the curb in front of Zayn.

“Did you buy….did you buy us _motorcycles _?” Louis incredulously asks. Zayn beams back at him in response.__

“Are these bloody Kawasakis? Oh my god, is that the 2013 Ninja 650?” Niall leaps forwards to inspect the bikes, reverently running his hands over the shining paint. “I can’t believe it! Jesus, Zayn. Are these really for us? Do we get to keep them?”

Zayn blushes a bit in the face of Niall’s enthusiasm. “You earned it. You lads are very loyal and hardworking…..and I wanted to let you know that I appreciate you.” Louis and Harry move forward to look at the bikes, and Niall turns back to throw his arms around Zayn. Liam looks down at his feet, shuffling them slightly. When he looks back up, Niall is pulling away from Zayn. Zayn winks at Liam, who quickly looks away again. “Let’s get this party started.”

Harry glances back up from the bikes with a worried expression on his face. “Erm….there are four bikes.”

“Very good, Harold,” Louis mocks, reaching out to muss his curls again. Harry ducks his head. 

“There are five of us,” he insists in his deep, slow voice. “How’s Liam supposed to go from bar to bar?”

“I’m fine!” Liam says hastily. “This is your night. I don’t want to ruin it or anything. I’ll just head home. So, thanks for the beer Zayn.” He nods towards him, and Zayn nods back in reply.

“No, wait. Wait, Liam.” Niall grabs his arm to prevent him from walking away. “Don’t be an idiot. You can ride on the back of mine.”

Zayn and Liam speak at the same time. “I’m not sure that’s a good-”

“That doesn’t seem very safe-”

Niall waves them off. “Nonsense. I used to ride my brother’s bike back in Mullingar all the time, and I haven’t had that much to drink. It’ll be fine.” Liam’s mouth twists uncertainly, and Zayn’s chiseled features cloud. “Come on, Liam. It’ll be fine.” Earn their trust.

“Yeah, okay. Why not? You only live once,” Liam says. Zayn’s lips quirk up into a reluctant smile.

“Did you just quote Drake?”

“Uhhh…”

“Will you pricks stop talking? Let’s see how these babies handle the road,” Louis impatiently shouts from atop one of the bikes. Zayn digs in the pocket of his black skinny jeans, pulls out the keys, and tosses them to the other men. Zayn, Harry, and Niall simultaneously mount their bikes, and the road fills with the grumbling of the Kawasakis. Liam directs his eyes heavenward and says a brief prayer before scrambling up behind Niall and clinging to his narrow waist. It feels nice to have Niall’s warm, solid body in front of his, but he tells himself that it’s just because he hasn’t been laid in four months. “Helmets?” Liam leans forward to shout in Niall’s ear. Niall laughs and yells something back at him, but his words are lost in the rolling purrs of the four engines. And then they’re off, roaring down the street. Liam tightens his arms around Niall and hangs on for dear life.

The rest of the night becomes a bit of a blur as they drive from bar to bar. At first, Liam is worried about the ability of the other men to drive the motorcycles while intoxicated (not to mention the legality), but, after a few drinks, he decides not to think about it. The different bars meld together, until his memory of the night consists of pulsing strobe lights, rounds of shots bought by Zayn and Louis, Niall’s face close to his as they dance, and the flashing yellow-black of the night as they fly down the streets on the motorcycles. He leans his head down against Niall’s back, and Niall reaches one hand down to his knee in response. Then they’re at the next bar, and he’s sliding off the back of the bike and down into Harry’s steadying grasp. Liam never drinks this much; the only other time that he was this drunk was when he first danced with Niall at The Station. But everyone keeps buying him drinks, and Niall keeps smiling at him, and every now and then Niall will reach out to touch him, and Liam doesn’t want it to stop. He wants this night to last forever.

And it certainly feels like it does. It’s late in the night when they finally arrive at The Shoreditch House. They park the bikes outside of the hotel, toss their keys to a couple of bemused valets, and head into the lobby. Liam giggles at the absurdity of being so drunk in such a nice lobby (There’s a marble fountain, for chrissakes. And they’re wearing jeans. And he’s so pissed.) and leans his head onto Niall’s shoulder. Niall wraps an arm around Liam’s waist and tows him towards the elevator, following the other men. The elevator takes them straight up to the rooftop, where twinkling lights are strung liberally about and flickering candles float on top of a dark pool. There are people everywhere, screaming, shouting, dancing, teetering by in impossibly high heels.

“Shit. Perrie went all out, didn’t she?” breathes Louis. Zayn waves them after him and cuts in front of the people queuing to get into the party.

“Malik. I’m on the list.”

The attendant looks down at the guestbook in front of him, and then sniffs haughtily as he looks back up. “It says ‘Malik plus two.’ There are five of you. Two of you can’t get in.” Niall’s fingers tighten on Liam’s waist.

Zayn glowers at the man. “Are you serious?” When he receives no answer, he looks around until he spots the large, burly man standing not too far away. “Call your bouncer over,” he instructs the attendant. He smirks at the man’s surprise. “Go on. Call your bloody bouncer over.” The attendant looks at him uneasily, but complies.

“Oi! Pete! Get over here.” The bouncer lumbers over to them. Before the attendant can speak again, Zayn addresses the bouncer.

“Mr. Fancy pants here won’t let us in. He obviously doesn’t know who I am. But I’m guessing that you do,” he says, leaning in conspiratorially towards the man.

The bouncer turns to stare at the attendant. “Shit, mate. That’s Zayn Malik! You can’t not let him in. What the hell were you thinkin’?” The attendant looks even more confused than he did before, but he moves aside to let them pass.

“Uhhh….sorry, Mr. Malik. Won’t happen again.” Zayn nods imperiously at him and walks onto the rooftop, closely followed by Harry, Niall, Louis, and Liam. As they pass the bouncer, Zayn slips a hand into his pocket and passes a small plastic baggie to him. The man palms it so discretely that Liam almost misses the entire exchange. Zayn pats the bouncer on the shoulder.

“For your trouble.”

“Thank you, Mr. Malik.” And then they’re surrounded by the party goers. Liam cranes his neck back towards the bouncer, but he’s quickly swept off with Niall deeper into the crowd of people.

“I’ll go get us something to drink. Perrie usually has fancy shit.” Niall shouts into his ear. He squeezes Liam’s waist one last time, and then he’s gone. Liam looks around and spots Zayn and Harry talking to a pretty blonde girl, who’s perched on a chaise lounge next to the pool. Liam squints. Is that the same girl that he saw at karaoke? He walks up to them, pushing through the pairs of people.

“There you are!” Harry exclaims. “We weren’t sure where you and Niall got off to.”

The blonde girl whips her head around to look at Zayn. “Niall’s here?” Zayn shrugs awkwardly.

“Yeah. Is that cool?”

“It’s fine. I just didn’t think that he wanted to be anywhere near me.” Zayn shrugs again, but offers no other response. The blonde looks at him a bit longer, and then turns back to Liam. “Where are my manners? Have a seat, love.” She pats her chaise lounge. Harry is already sitting at her feet, so Liam maneuvers himself into one of the seats next to her. Zayn yanks out his pack of Marlboros and wanders a few feet away to smoke.

“I’m Perrie Edwards.” The girl holds out a hand to Liam, who promptly takes it.

“Liam Parsons.”

“Pleased to meet you, Liam Parsons. How do you know these wankers?”

“Hey!” Harry’s head shoots up and he glares at her indignantly.

“Oh, Harry. You know I love you.” Perrie looks expectantly over at Liam.

“Uh, well….I met Niall one night at The Station, but then Zayn tried to beat him up and I stopped him. But now we’re all friends?” Danielle always did say that in alcohol lies the truth.

Perrie throws her head back and laughs. “You’re an honest one, Liam Parsons.”

“Um…thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” There’s an awkward pause, and then Louis comes rushing over to claim Harry.

“We’ll see you later,” he says, grinning as he pulls Harry up off of Perrie’s lounge chair and drags him away without further ado.

“So…” Liam coughs nervously, and Perrie turns back towards him. He never has been very good at talking to pretty girls. Heaven knows how he convinced Dani to give him a chance. “How do you know them?”

“I’m Zayn’s friend,” she says shortly, taking a swig of her drink.

"Are you his….uhhh….girlfriend?”

Perrie snorts. “Do you mean am I fucking him?” Liam splutters, but Perrie smiles reassuringly at him. “Yeah. But I’m not his girlfriend. Zayn doesn’t do girlfriends. At one point he _did _have a boyfriend.” She juts her chin towards the pool, and Liam follows her line of sight. Zayn and Niall are standing across from them on the other side of the deck, their heads tilted towards each other. As Perrie and Liam watch, Niall begins to laugh at something Zayn has said. He tips his head back, his whole body shaking with joy. Zayn’s eyes greedily drink him in, and Liam feels something hot uncurl in the pit of his belly. When he looks back over at Perrie, she’s eyeing him carefully over the rim of the glass.__

“You hitting that?”

“What? Niall? No…no!”

“You _want _to hit that?”__

“No….no! I’m straight,” he insists. Perrie raises an eyebrow.

“You could be straight and still like Niall,” she says, shrugging lightly. “We all kind of want a piece of Niall, you know?” Liam grunts in response, and Perrie shrugs again. “I’m just saying….if you want him, you should go for it. You have some stiff competition, though.” Liam looks back over at Zayn, who now has his hand on Niall’s lower back.

“What’s their deal anyway?”

“You don’t know?”

“I mean…Niall hinted at some things…and I kind of guessed the rest…”

Perrie practically hops at the chance to fill him in. “Zayn met Niall a little over a year ago when he travelled to Ireland. And then…I don’t know….they fell in love, and Zayn brought him back to London with him. Brought him home. They moved in together. It was weird as fuck….I’ve never seen Zayn like that around _anyone _.”__

“And then what?”

“Then nothing. Niall started working with Zayn-”

“At the bar?” Shit. Don’t seem too eager for information.

“No, the bar just opened a couple of months ago. In the business.”

“Drugs? In the drug business?”

Perrie shushes him. “Jesus. Keep your fucking voice down.” Her panic is confirmation, and Liam’s stomach drops. Niall is involved in criminal activity with Zayn.

“Sorry. I’m a bit buzzed. So what happened to them?”

“Me. I happened. And then some other shit went down with their business….I don’t know what….and they broke up for good. Niall kept living with him because he couldn’t afford to live anywhere else, but he finally moved into a room above The Station once it opened.”

Liam nods to himself and continues to watch Zayn and Niall, who remain oblivious of his gaze. “So what’s your story?” Perrie asks, shifting in her lounge chair.

“I recently moved here from Wolverhampton, and I’m working at Moe’s Coffee House-” He’s interrupted by Louis, who appears next to them sans Harry.

“There you are! Right where I left you!” Louis hiccups. “’Scuse me, Perrie. May I borrow our young friend here?”

Perrie tilts her head gracefully, and Liam gets why Zayn likes her. “Thanks love! Great party, by the way.” Louis yanks Liam up by his elbow and leads him off to a shadowy corner of the party, away from the pool deck.

“Here.” Louis stretches a hand out towards him, and Liam sees two little white pills cupped in his palm.

“What’s that?”

“What the fuck do you think it is?”

“Drugs?” Liam asks uncertainly.

Louis chuckles at him. “It’s molly.”

“MDMA?”

“Yes, you idiot. Do you want it or not?” Liam hesitates. If he doesn’t take it, Louis will be suspicious. But he’s never done anything other than smoke weed that one time at university….

He glances back up at Louis, whose face is expressionless for once. It’s a test, Liam realizes. Louis is trying to see if I’m down with drugs. He has no choice. He grabs one of the pills.

“No.” Liam freezes, his hand hovering over Louis’ palm. “Both.” Louis’ eyes glitter in the dim glow of the twinkle lights. Fuck. Liam swallows hard, and then grabs both of the pills. He pops them into his mouth and pushes them down his throat with a gulp of Louis’ drink. Champagne.

“I knew you were cool. Come on, let’s get back to the party.” How’s that for gaining their motherfucking trust, Liam thinks.

They wind their way back through the increasingly debauched crowd to Zayn and Niall, who have now been joined by Harry. Harry latches onto Louis as soon as he comes within arms’ length.

“Where have you been, babe?” Louis doesn’t answer his boyfriend, instead reaching up to fist his hands in Harry’s curls. He pulls Harry’s mouth down to his and begins to kiss him. Harry grins into the kiss and slides his hands further around Louis’ back. Zayn rolls his eyes at them.

“I’m gonna go find Perrie.”

“She’s still over by the pool,” Liam blurts out. Zayn looks at him, surprised.

“Okay. Thanks, mate.” He ambles away.

Niall turns to Liam. “I…uhh…shit.” He’s more than a little drunk. “I got you a flute of Champagne, but then I drank it…and then I drank some more….”

“It’s fine. I don’t like Champagne that much anyway. You wanna dance?”

Niall cocks his head. Liam’s noticed that Niall often does that when he’s considering something. “Yeah, why not? Let’s let the happy couple be.” He smirks and juts a thumb over his shoulder, where Harry and Louis are wrapped together so tightly that Liam can’t tell where one man starts and the other begins.

Liam blushes. “Great.”


	11. Brilliant Blue and Bright Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know that this fic has been really slow burn, but hopefully this chapter makes it worth it ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Drug use.

“You know, you’re a pretty good dancer,” Niall shouts into Liam’s ear over the thudding bass of a rap song.

“Thanks, but you’re better!”

Niall shrugs, the motion bringing him even closer to Liam. “I’ve got natural rhythm. You…you’re more methodical about it.” Methodical. Liam’s stomach drops a bit. He doesn’t want Niall to realize that this is all an act. That _everything _has been an act.__

“Oooooh, big word.” _Distract him with humor _.__

Niall smirks. “Shut the hell up. It has four syllables.” Liam grins back into those clear blue eyes.

“Yeah, but I dropped out of uni, remember?” Niall laughs at that, throwing his head back into that glorious, body-shaking cackle of his. But then the molly hits Liam, and everything is suddenly a roiling wave of light, heat, and motion. Liam stumbles, and Niall’s hand at his hip steadies him. He thinks that the song changes a couple of times as they sway back and forth, but it could all be in his head. Liam’s vision narrows until all he can see is the blonde in front of him, and then it narrows even more and he can only see bits and pieces of Niall at time. The easy swing of his hips, the glint of his sapphire eyes, the drip of sweat on his bare, muscled arms.

Someone stumbles into Liam’s back, and he’s suddenly pushed up against Niall’s sweat soaked front. Niall reaches his other hand up to his bicep to catch him as he falls forward, and, at feeling of Niall’s fingers wrapping around his arm, electricity surges through Liam’s body. Suddenly it feels as if he’ll die if he doesn’t lay his hands on Niall. So Liam reaches up, places a hand on each side of Niall’s head, and pulls him in. Niall freezes at the touch of Liam’s lips on his, but Liam kisses him fiercely, insistently. And then, to Liam’s surprise, Niall kisses back. Liam hums in approval and pushes his body closer to Niall’s, hands twisting in his hair. Niall responds eagerly, placing his arms around Liam’s waist and dragging him in firmly. All Liam can feel is Niall’s mouth on his, his soft strands of hair coiled between his fingers, his arms locking around his waist. Something in the haziness of Liam’s brain, or perhaps in the heat of his belly, urges him to push further. He tentatively opens his lips and probes at Niall’s closed lips with the tip of his tongue. Niall opens his mouth, groaning, and Liam feels like there’s liquid fire in his veins. Light from the party pulses behind his closed eyelids, throbbing in time with a vein in his temple. But then Niall yanks away abruptly, using the hands that had been pulling Liam against him mere seconds ago to instead hold him at a distance. Niall says something, shouts into his face, but all Liam can hear is the rush of blood in his ears. Niall’s face melts into a mess of colors, brilliant blue and bright gold, and then Liam can’t see anything.

The next thing he knows, he’s floating on his back in the rooftop pool. Around him, the noise of the raging party has died down to a dull roar. He lifts his head carefully, still floating, and sees Niall sitting cross legged on the pool deck next to him. When Niall sees Liam stirring, he jolts up onto his knees in concern. “You alright, mate?”

Liam follows the streaks of gold left in the air and in the water by the candles, watches the way the water ripples away from his face. Niall’s voice floats across the pool’s surface and burrows into his brain. Liam tries to speak, but it feels like his mouth is full of cotton. Niall grabs a glass from the pool deck next to him and holds it out to Liam. “It’s just water.” Liam carefully puts his feet on the bottom of the pool, stands up, and reaches an arm out to grab it. He takes a sip, and notices as he raises his arm that he’s fully clothed.

“I’m…still wearing my clothes. And I’m in the pool. How did I get in the pool?” Niall smiles at him, but Liam thinks that he looks sad.

“You overheated. Because of the molly. So you jumped in the pool.” Niall lifts a shoulder casually. “Smart, really. You scared the shit out of everyone, though.”

Liam looks around at the people standing around the pool. No one looks back in their direction. “Sorry,” he rasps, gulping down the rest of the water. He places the glass back onto the pool deck next to Niall. “What time is it?”

“Four in the morning.”

Liam doesn’t respond, instead closing his eyes against the pounding of his head. Images flash against his closed eyelids….motorcycles, blurred lights, Niall’s eyes… _oh my god he kissed Niall _. His eyes fly back open.__

“Uhh….did we…did I?”

“Nothing happened,” Niall quickly assures him, a red blush starting on his neck and spreading up towards his face. “You kissed me, and I took advantage of you. I was drunk, but you were rolling….I shouldn’t have kissed you back. I’m sorry.”

Liam sinks lower into the water, trying to hide his own red cheeks. “No, it’s fine. I think it was my fault, so uhh….sorry.” Niall looks at him, his expression unreadable. “Do you want to come in?” Liam kicks back off of the ground and floats again. “The water’s nice.” Niall snorts.

“I don’t think that you’re actually supposed to get in the pool at parties like this.”

“What, are you scared because I almost drowned you when we went fishing?”

Niall shoots to his feet and pulls his shirt off. “Screw you, I kicked your ass.”

“Come in and prove it then.” Liam looks carefully at the air over Niall’s left shoulder instead of his defined stomach.

“Yeah, I’m tryin’.” Niall hops on one foot, and then the other, pulling off his shoes and shucking his jeans. He slides into the water, carefully avoiding the floating candles. “You’re right. The water is nice.”

“Would I lie to you?” _Yes _, Liam answers himself quietly.__

“Shut up.” They float in silence, the only sound the chattering of the Perrie’s guests and the slowly fading music. Liam tilts his head, slyly observing Niall out of the corner of his eye. He looks beautiful in the gold, dancing light of the candles. Something twinges in Liam’s chest, and this time he can’t ignore it. However, before he can say or do anything, he sees Zayn prowling down the length of the pool deck towards them.

“I can’t believe that you two actually got in the pool,” he hisses. “Are you wearing jeans?” The question is directed at Liam, who flushes.

Niall huffs out a breath. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. We were just about to get out.” He swims over to the side of the pool and pulls himself out. Liam glances at him, looks at his straining biceps and the water dripping from his hair. He feels someone else’s gaze on him, and he turns his head to find Zayn smirking at him. Liam drops his head quickly and moves to get out of the water behind Niall, studiously avoiding looking at his narrow waist or the wet cloth of his boxers.

“Harry and Louis took off already, and I’m staying in the penthouse with Perrie.”

Niall gathers up his discarded clothes, his face suddenly bitter and pinched. “Then I guess Liam and I will make our way back-”

“Perrie told me to give you this.” Zayn holds a key card out to Niall, who looks at it as if it’s a snake poised to bite. “It’s for one of the rooms she rented. I think she still feels bad about what happened last year, so-”

Niall looks back up at Zayn, his eyes flashing. “Nah, it’s fine.”

“We should stay.” Zayn and Niall look sharply over at Liam, standing, forgotten by the pool, water-logged clothes dripping onto the white concrete of the deck. He clears his throat and speaks again. “I mean…it’s late. It doesn’t make sense to go home right now.” Zayn and Niall stare at him for a beat longer, and then Zayn breaks the tension of the moment with a fluid roll of his shoulders.

“Sure. Whatever.” He flips the keycard at Niall, who fumbles to catch it. “See you in the morning.” He walks away from the pool and back into the mass of people. Niall walks back towards the entrance, and Liam follows close behind him.

“

We’re two floors down,” Niall murmurs as they step into an elevator. Liam nods somberly and then breaks into a fit of giggles. “What? What’s so funny? Are you still rolling?”

“No….it’s just….I’m standing in an elevator at The Shoreditch House in soaking wet clothes, and you’re only wearing boxers…” Liam breaks down again, and a smile slowly spreads across Niall’s face.

“Yeah, I guess we do look like bloody lunatics.”

“ _Look _like?” Liam manages to gasp out, and Niall finally dissolves into laughter. The elevator dings and they step out onto their floor. Arms wrapped about each other’s shoulders, they stumble carelessly down the hallway. When they finally reach the door of their room, they’re both out of breath from laughing. Niall swipes the keycard, and then turns the handle of the door. They pause, their laughter dying in their throats. There’s a moment, pregnant with something that Liam can’t quite put his finger on, but then Niall pushes open the door and they’re inside the room.__

“There should be robes and shit. You know, since our clothes are soaked. Well, your clothes and my underwear,” Niall calls over his shoulder as he moves deeper into the room.

“Yep,” Liam replies absently as he ducks into the bathroom. He closes the door and turns to brace his hands on the sink, staring at his haggard reflection in the mirror.

“Pull yourself together, Liam Payne,” he whispers. He tries to slow down his heavy breathing. His chest heaves up and down frantically. “You’re going to go out there, take off your clothes, put on a nice, fluffy robe, and keep your hands to yourself. You can do that.” He takes one deep, shaky gulp of air. “You can do that.” He turns, squares his shoulders, and walks back out into the room. Niall has changed out of his boxers and into a robe in record time, and he’s already lying in the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. _King-sized bed _. There’s only one bed in the room, Liam belatedly realizes. _Shit _.____

Liam forces his limbs to obey him, and stumbles over towards the wardrobe. He peels off his wet clothes, hangs them up, and pulls on a robe. He walks quietly over to the bed, pausing as he reaches the side. The lights are off, and all he can see is the silhouette of Niall lying on his side. Maybe he’s already asleep.

“You gonna stand there all night or you gonna get in?” No such luck. Liam doesn’t respond. He pulls back the cover and slips into the bed, turning on his side so that he’s facing away from Niall. It doesn’t make much of a difference, though, because he can feel Niall’s body radiating heat. His proximity makes the hair on Liam’s arm stand up.

Several minutes pass in silence, and Liam can feel and hear Niall shuffling about underneath the covers. Niall sighs, and then stills. “Goodnight, Liam.”

“Goodnight.”

/

“ _Fuck, Niall. Please….” Liam’s voice trails off as his breath catches in his throat at the sight of Niall’s blindingly white teeth flashing in the width of a wicked grin. The blonde moves his hands from where he’s braced them on either side of Liam’s head, sliding them down the other man’s chest. His mouth follows. “Niall,” Liam groans again. Niall bites teasingly at his hip and then _-__

Liam wakes up achingly hard and gasping, sweat pouring down his brow. He looks to his right, where he can see Niall’s side slowly falling up and down in deep slumber. A dream. He just had a fucking sex dream about petty criminal Niall Horan. _Male _petty criminal Niall Horan, no less. Being undercover is seriously fucking with his head. He groans, and swings his legs out of the bed. Before he can stand up, Niall’s pale hand snakes out of the velvety darkness of the room and grabs his forearm.__

“Where’r ya’ goin’?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep and his brogue.

“Bathroom,” Liam hisses between clenched teeth, ripping his arm out of Niall’s grasp and stalking across the room before he has the chance to do something that he’ll certainly regret later. He slams the door behind him, and Niall can see the fluorescent yellow light flick on through the crack in the bottom of the door. The blonde drops his head back down to the pillow and exhales slowly, staring up at the ceiling.

In the bathroom, Liam once again braces his hands against the sink. He leans in to splash cold water on his face and then slaps his cheeks. The cold water does nothing for his obvious erection. He can’t go back in there to Niall in this condition. He stares at himself in the mirror for a beat longer, and then abruptly shrugs the bathrobe off of his shoulders. He steps into the shower and twists a knob, letting cold water stream down over him. Hanging his head in resignation, Liam reaches down to grab himself. _Don’t fucking think about him _, he silently reprimands himself. But, when he comes, an embarrassingly short time later, he has to bite his own fist to stop himself from moaning out Niall’s name.__

He thumps his head lightly against the wall of the shower. _What the fuck is wrong with me _, he thinks. _I’ve got Dani waiting for me back home and I’m jacking off to the thought of this kid _.____

Liam shuffles out of the shower, pulls the bathrobe on, and walks back into the room. He moves silently about the room, collecting his still damp clothes from the wardrobe and putting them back on. Despite his shower, he feels incredibly dirty.

“You leavin?” Niall is sitting up against the headboard. Outside, the Sun is just beginning to rise. Liam jumps and looks carefully away from where the golden light is spilling across Niall’s chest, exposed by a gap in the front of his robe.

“Yeah, I wanna go home and sleep in my own bed for a couple of hours. No offense, mate.”

“How was your shower?”

Liam looks sharply back at Niall before he answers. “Fine,” he stammers. “It was fine.”

Niall raises an eyebrow. “Might have to have one myself, then.”

Liam flushes. _He knows _. “You should,” he says, trying to shrug a shoulder causally. “It was a nice…shower.” Niall simply nods back at him, the corners of his mouth turned down in consideration.__

“Right then.” Liam coughs, trying to diffuse the sudden tension. “I’m off. I’ll see you around, yeah? Tell Zayn thanks for tonight. It was great.” He waves a hand awkwardly and then hastily pushes through the door, not waiting for Niall to reply.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Dani-”

“This is Sergeant Kellen.”

“Oh….hello, sir.”

“Do you have something to report, Officer Payne?” His real last name sounds strange in his ears. Liam clears his throat.

“Well, I…uh…I didn’t check in last night because we stayed out all night. I just now got back to my flat.”

“Were you able to gather any useful information about Malik and his associates last night?”

“Yes! I was. Ah…they spent a _lot _of money last night. An excessive amount of money. Malik bought _four _top of the line sport bikes for him and his friends. They were celebrating something they referred to as Malik’s “business venture” turning a profit. And sir, I don’t think that they were referring to The Station. There’s no way that a bar can make that much money in such a short period.”____

“Heroin?”

“Possibly. I talked to Malik’s girlfriend…errr female friend…last night, and she confirmed that Malik and…..” Liam pauses, something squeezing painfully in his chest. “….Horan were recently involved with drugs. Tomlinson also offered me MDMA.”

“This is all useful information. Excellent work, Officer Payne.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Over the next couple of weeks, continue to ingratiate yourself with Malik and his associates. Do you think that this woman will tell you anything else?"

"I don't think that she knows much more than what she told me. Malik keeps his affairs close to his chest."

"Very well. If they really are running heroin, as their conspicuous consumption may suggest, we’re going to want you to get involved. But they need to recruit you. We have to wait for them to approach you. In the meantime, continue to keep track of their spending habits. That might give us some further insight into the way that they’re handling the heroin and laundering the money through The Station.”

“Yes, sir. Oh, and sir? Could you tell Sergeant Peazer that….”

“Yes?”

“Never mind.”

“Alright. Well…check back in when you have further information.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good luck, Officer.” Liam places the burn phone back in his bedside table and sits down on his bed. Before he think any further about Sergeant Kellen’s instructions, there’s a knock at his door.

“One minute!” He dashes across his flat and pulls open the door. “Niall?”

The blonde is standing in his doorway, wearing a sheepish smile and bearing shopping bags. “Hey! I figured you’d still be pretty wrecked, so I thought I’d stop by with some food. Err…well, take out. I don’t really cook.”

Liam smiles awkwardly back at him, thinking of the morning, and opens the door even further. “Sweet! Thanks, mate. Come on in.”

Niall hands a couple of bags to Liam and shuffles inside. “I thought maybe we could watch a movie or something. I don’t own any DVDs so I stopped by Harry and Lou’s flat…all they own are the Fast and Furious movies. Turns out Harry has a huge, raging boner for Vin Diesel.” Liam chokes back a laugh.

“Of course he does. But yeah….take out and a movie sounds great.”

Marathoning the Fast and Furious movies quickly turns to watching football as soon as nighttime rolls around and Niall gets fidgety.

“What?” Liam had asked.

“Well, Derby’s playin’ and….” And with that, they had switched over to the game. Currently, they’re a couple of beers in and Niall is perched on the edge of the couch, cheeks flushed. Not that Liam’s looking at his cheeks. Or wondering if the rest of Niall’s body flushes like that.

“C’mon boys, c’mon!” Niall shouts, interrupting Liam’s reverie. “Just give us a goal before the half, c’mon!” Hendrick sends a shot wide, missing the goal completely. The clock winds down and Niall groans, flopping back dramatically on the couch.

“S’alright,” slurs Liam. Maybe it had been more than a few beers. “They’ll come back th’ second half.”

Niall huffs out a breath before grudgingly heaving himself upright and grabbing another beer. “Yeah, you’re prolly right. We need this fuckin’ win, though.” Liam just grunts in response, his back slipping lower down the back of the couch. Niall, beer in hand, folds back into the couch and twists on his side to stare at Liam.

“You kissed me last night.”

Liam chokes on his mouthful of shitty, warm beer, surprised at how quickly Niall shifts gears. “Yeah,” he hesitantly replies. “When I was high. Didn’t we already talk about this? I think you apologized for taking advantage of me?”

Niall ignores him in favor of taking another swig of his beer. “And then, last night, you acted all weird about sharing a bed with me. And _then _, this morning, you jacked off in the shower.”__

Liam’s eyes widen in shock. “I -”

Niall interrupts him. “Did you or did you not jack off in the shower this morning?”

Liam swallows hard. “Yes.”

Niall looks away, nodding to himself. His expression is unreadable. He finishes his beer, places the empty bottle on Liam’s coffee table, and then, finally, looks back at Liam. “Okay, next question.” His voice is rough, his accent pronounced.

Liam flushes and nervously licks his lips. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, and the sweat beading on his forehead. “Shoot.”

“Do you want me?”

Fuck. Liam thought that this might be coming, but he’s still wholly unprepared for the question. “Uhhhh….” His breath seems to get stuck in his throat. Niall waits, his body tense and his big, beautiful eyes flicking over Liam’s face. “I like…girls,” Liam manages to splutter.

Somehow, Niall has managed to shift closer to Liam, and Liam can feel his breath fanning over his face. “That’s not an answer to my question, Liam.” When Liam doesn’t say anything, when he merely stares, panic-stricken, Niall continues. “Because I think you do. And I _definitely _want you. I’ve wanted you since I saw you at The Station that first night and you spilled a fucking whiskey sour all over my favorite tank. So…if you want me, you should just tell me.”__

Liam says nothing. Niall reaches out, places a hand on his chest, and looms over him, pushing him down onto the couch. Niall follows him down, holding himself up by arms braced on either side of his head. It’s so similar to Liam’s dream that he shakes his head, half in disbelief and half to clear it. “I’m not going to touch you until you tell me that you want me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! All future updates will appear here.


	12. Would You Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Niam finally goes on a date and talks about their feelings. Again, I know that this fic has been super slow burn, so thanks for hanging in there. Enjoy!

Liam takes a deep, shaky breath, timidly looking up to meet Niall’s intense stare. A few strands of Niall’s golden hair flop down and brush across Liam’s forehead. Liam can’t believe that Niall is so close to him and yet…he’s not touching him. He _needs _to be touching him. So he takes another breath, and….__

“I want you,” he murmurs. Niall grins triumphantly down at him.

“What was that?”

Liam frowns, his forehead creasing. “You heard what I said.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear you say it again.”

“Niall, don’t make fun of-”

“I’m not,” Niall hastily interjects. “I’m not,” he repeats, slower this time. “I just….I want to hear you say it again.”

Liam forces himself to maintain eye contact with the man stretched out above him. It’s a whisper this time, but what he says is unmistakable. “I want you.”

The smile drops from Niall’s face. “Okay,” he says softly. He drops his head down slowly, his body following, as if he’s afraid that Liam will bolt out from underneath him. “Gonna kiss you now.” And then he does. And it’s so different from the past two times, different from when Niall had drunkenly shoved Liam up against his front door, and different from when Liam, high out of his mind, had grabbed Niall. It’s perfect. Liam’s breath hitches in his chest at the touch of Niall’s lips on his own, and Niall, pressed closely against him, can feel it. He pulls away abruptly, pushing himself back up on his palms.

“You okay?” Niall asks, his eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“Yeah, fine,” Liam gasps out. “Can you do that again?”

Niall flashes his trademark grin, and lowers himself back down. “I can do it a couple more times, if you like,” he murmurs against Liam’s lips. Liam nods enthusiastically, accidentally jerking his head away from Niall’s. Niall snickers, and presses a kiss to his cheekbone. “You’re adorable.”

“Shut up,” Liam growls as he finally manages to unfreeze his limbs. He tentatively reaches up to press his fingers against Niall’s ribs. He wants to count them, and then count Niall’s freckles once he’s done with his ribs. “Stop talking and kiss me instead.”

“So demanding, Jesus Christ.” But he complies, and Liam can feel Niall’s beautiful smile pressed against his lips. Liam drags his fingers across the hem of Niall’s shirt and then deftly slips them underneath, tentatively dragging them across Niall’s bare back. Niall hums in approval, pushing his body even closer to Liam’s. Pleased by the response, Liam does it again, this time letting his fingernails scratch lightly across Niall’s back. He can feel Niall gasp against his lips, and the blonde distressingly pulls away from him for the second time.

“What are you doing?” grumbles Liam.

Niall grins and swoops down to kiss him lightly on the nose. “If you’re goin’ ta’ touch me like tha’, I’m goin’ ta’ have ta’ leave.” _And, oh, that’s why his accent sounds more pronounced sometimes _.__

Liam pouts. “What? You can’t-”

Niall smirks down at him, his smile dirty. “I don’ trust myself when you’re touching me like tha’.”

“I told you that I want you-”

“Yeah, but I don’ wan’ ta’ make a mess upon your innocence.”

Liam huffs out a breath in annoyance, and Niall can feel it fan across his face. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means tha’ I really like you. I don’ wan’ ta’ sleep with you the first time we properly kiss. You’re into girls, for crying out loud. I don’ wan’ ta push you too far, or go too fast-”

Liam grins wickedly. “What if I want you to go too fast?”

Niall tries to frown at Liam, but the blush on his cheeks betray him. “You don’ know what you’re talking abou’, Liam Parsons.”

“So show me.”

Niall bites his lip, shaking his head at the tempting offer. “Another time.” He dips his head and briefly captures Liam’s lips with his own. “But this is it for now.” He rolls off of Liam and stands up, offering him a hand. Liam sighs and takes it, allowing Niall to pull him off the couch and onto his feet.

“You’re such a buzzkill,” complains Liam.

Niall just flashes that blinding smile of his. “Yeah, yeah.” He catches Liam’s shirt in his fists, and yanks him in for one last kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks tentatively. “I wan’ ta’ take you on a proper date.”

Liam pouts again and Niall leans in again, kissing him insistently until his mouth curves up into a smile. “Yeah, of course,” he murmurs against the other man’s lips. Satisfied with Liam’s response, Niall pulls away.

“Alrigh’. ‘spose I should leave before I change my mind.”

“Yeah.”

“Yep.”

“Wear something pretty for me tomorrow.”

Liam, distracted by Niall’s continued proximity, doesn’t rise to the bait. “Okay.”

Neither of the men move towards the door. “Goddamnit,” Niall growls. There’s a weighty pause, and then he threads his fingers into Liam’s belt loops. Liam has a split second to grin in triumph before Niall is kissing him again, this time less gently. Liam throws his arms about Niall’s neck, pushing his body close against Niall’s. Niall allows his arms to snake around Liam’s back, and presses one hand firmly into the small of Liam’s back. For a brief, heady moment, Liam thinks that Niall’s resolve has failed him. But then Niall pulls away just like before, putting dreaded distance between them.

“Nope, nope,” Niall mutters, almost to himself. “Don’ think yer gon’ ta’ get yer way just because yer cute, Parsons.”

Liam smiles, his eyes crinkling in victory, and ignores the ice that slips into his stomach at the mention of his fake last name. “Awww, you think I’m cute _and _adorable.”__

“Anyone with two eyes and half a brain would think that you’re cute,” Niall scoffs.

Liam leans into Niall’s personal space, chasing another kiss. _Why hadn’t he kept doing this after Niall had kissed him that first night _?__

Niall allows Liam one last kiss, and then gently pushes him away. “I meant it. I should go. But...” He nervously clears his throat. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Aces.” And then Niall darts out of the apartment, firmly pulling the door closed behind him before he can change his mind again.

Liam sighs and sinks back down onto the couch, his eyes fluttering shut. For a few blissful moments, his mind is full only with thoughts of Niall’s smile, of his big blue eyes, of his lips pressed firmly against Liam’s. Niall calling him _Parsons _. Liam’s eyes snap open and he sits straight up before abruptly dropping his head into his hands. _Shit shit shit _. _God fucking damnit _. _He’s supposed to use Niall to get intel about Zayn and his operation, not bloody fall in lo _-________

He pushes that thought out of his mind before he can complete it, because that is not a thought that he can afford to complete. He can’t let Niall trust him in this way, not when he’s trying to gather information that will almost certainly land Niall in prison. He’s taking advantage of this wonderful man in the worst way. _Jesus Christ _.__

And then there’s Dani. His beautiful girlfriend, who is patiently waiting for him at home while he snogs a criminal. A handsome, kind, funny, charmingly self-aware criminal, but a criminal nonetheless. And in that moment, Liam knows that he can’t tell Danielle and Officer Kellen about this. He’s already failed to mention the other times that he’s kissed Niall, and he certainly can’t mention this intimate moment. It would betray Niall’s trust. He’s already betrayed Dani’s trust, but he can’t let her know. He won’t do that to her. And if Officer Kellen were to find out, he would push Liam to use Niall’s feelings against him. And he can’t do that any more than he already is.

Liam groans into his hands. This whole thing is such a bloody mess. He remains, motionless, on his couch for another few minutes before forcing himself to his feet. As he resignedly walks towards his bedroom, his phone buzzes in the back pocket of his jeans. He fishes it out and unlocks the screen. It’s a text from Niall.

_:) xxx ___

Liam looks at it, slowly turning things over in his head. He decides to ignore it, and flicks the text away in favor of setting his alarm for work tomorrow morning. Moving through his nighttime routine like a zombie, Liam stumbles into the bathroom to brush his teeth and practically falls into bed. He won’t text Niall back at all; he’ll talk to him tomorrow in person and they’ll decide that it’s better off if they remain friends. Like Niall said, Liam is into _women _. Niall will understand. He won’t cut him out of his life or do anything dramatic. And then Liam can continue on his mission of gathering information about Zayn. Because that’s what is most important.__

Liam’s eyes fall shut, and his breathing begins to slow. But as he drifts off to sleep, all he can see in his mind’s eye is Niall. Niall jumping up into the DJ booth that first night at the Station; Niall convincing him to do jagerbombs before dragging him out onto the dance floor and getting him into a fight with Zayn; Niall kissing him and shoving him back against the door of his flat; Niall jumping up in the fishing boat and kicking off his shoes; Niall waggling his eyebrows at him across the table at that restaurant; Niall lending him his jumper and then brushing his fingers over his tattoos; Niall’s beautiful voice catching him completely off-guard at karaoke; Niall clasping his knee in his big hand as Liam perches behind him on the motorcycle; Niall sliding into the pool to join him at The Shoreditch House; Niall clinging tightly to him as they stumble towards their hotel room; Niall pushing him down on his couch. Niall, Niall, Niall. _I’m in love with Niall _. The thought that he had pushed away earlier comes back to his hazy, sleepy mind.__

Liam bolts upright in his bed. _I’m in love with Niall _. He reaches for his phone and opens the text from Niall again. He pauses for a moment, thumb hanging in the air over the screen of his phone. Fuck it.__

_See you tomorrow xx ___

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“You really took what I said to heart, huh?”

“What?” Liam closes his apartment door behind him and looks down at himself. Shortly after texting Niall back the previous night, he had realized that he didn’t have anything nice to wear. When he and Dani had picked out the clothes from his closet that he would need while undercover, they certainly hadn’t thought that Liam would need to dress up while hanging with a bunch of gangsters in Hackney. He had brought along a couple of button downs, sure, but the closet in his temporary flat was mostly full of ratty t shirts and jeans.

But Niall is taking him out to _dinner _. What if they go to a fancy restaurant? Or a tapas bar? Liam couldn’t really see Niall in a tapas bar, but he had said to wear something “pretty.” And by “pretty,” he meant formal, right? Or was he just being cheeky? But what if he _had _been serious? He never can bloody tell with Niall.____

Guided by this runaway train of frantic thought, Liam had dashed to the nearest department store and bought a suit as soon as soon as he had clocked out at Moe’s Coffee House. Looking at his freshly starched black dress slacks now, it seems like overkill. Especially since Niall is only wearing dark jeans and a grey blazer. But _damn _does he look good. Had he done something different with his hair? Or maybe his hair just looks different because he’s wearing a shirt collar. Oh my _god _, that collar. Never in his wildest dreams had the formerly-absolutely-secure-in-his-staunch-heterosexuality Liam even _imagined _that he might find an Adam’s apple sexy-______

“Earth to Liam? Where are ya, mate?”

“Uhhh, sorry.” Liam starts and looks back up at Niall. “Is the suit too much?” He jerks a thumb awkwardly over his shoulder at the door. “Should I change?”

Niall grins broadly, and, as always, it’s so infectious that Liam finds himself smiling right along with him. “No, definitely not. That suit is only coming off if I take it off with my teeth.” As soon as the words fly out of his mouth, Niall freezes and he flushes a deep, dark red to match Liam’s own blush. “Shit. Sorry. That was inappropriate, wasn’t it?” To his surprise, Liam tilts his head back and laughs.

“Yeah, but you’ve said worse to me before.” Niall vaguely remembers sitting in his favorite restaurant and looking suggestively at Liam while shoving chicken down his throat, and groans in embarrassment. “Hey.” Liam reaches out to grab his arm reassuringly. “I thought it was funny then, and I think that it’s funny now. I don’t want you to treat me differently just because you’re taking me out on a date.”

“Right. You’re right. Speaking of, shall we?” Niall bows and presents his left arm to Liam with an exaggerated flourish, who, still smiling, takes it. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

The restaurant that Niall ends up taking him is indeed nice enough that Liam’s suit doesn’t earn him any stares, yet the atmosphere is quite relaxed and most of the patrons are wearing jeans like Niall. Liam sips at his water and consoles himself with the idea that everyone will probably assume that he’s an investment banker just off of work. When the waiter approaches their table and rattles off an impressive wine list, Niall cuts him off half way through and brusquely orders a bottle of red wine. When the waiter inquires as to _which _red wine he would like, Niall flips a dismissive hand at him and says that he’s really a beer man, himself, so it doesn’t matter. “Just not your cheapest or your priciest, mate!” Niall shouts at the waiter’s retreating back as Liam stifles a giggle with his fist. Niall turns back to him and smiles smugly.__

“That’s the trick at these hoity toity places. You gotta treat the waiters like shit, and then they respect you.”

“I don’t think he respects you,” Liam guffaws. “I think you gravely offended the poor bloke. He’s probably back there crying his eyes out to the chef.”

This, of course, sends Niall into peals of laughter, because what doesn’t send the Irishman into peals of laughter? Liam predictably joins in, unable to bite back his mirth, and a few of the other diners glance over at them. And, for once in his life, Liam doesn’t mind. He’s so sick of having to watch himself; he’s constantly editing what he says and does so that he doesn’t blow his cover. Even when he hadn’t been undercover, he had always been very conscious of what others thought of him. It feels _so _good to sit in this restaurant as Niall expresses his contempt for wine lists and snooty waiters alike, and to laugh so loudly with the man that they bother everyone else around them. If he were here on a date with Dani, he would have pretended like he knew more about wine than he actually does and-__

The thought of eating dinner with Dani sends Liam’s mood crashing back down. He’s not here with Niall because he _wants _to be, but because he _has _to be. This isn’t really a date, for chrissakes. It’s a way of working his way into the confidence of Niall and his friends, and, most importantly, a way to get closer to Zayn and bust him for distributing heroin. But it’s so easy to sit here and laugh along with Niall, and it’s so easy to forget about the mission and about Dani waiting for him back home. It's so easy that it's frightening.____

“You alrigh’, mate?” Niall notices Liam’s sudden silence. “You’re not freaking out about being on a date with a dude, are you?”

“No, of course not. I’m fine.” Liam plasters on a fake smile. “Just not sure what to order. I gotta get something good so our friend over there doesn’t think that we’re heathens.” Liam nods towards where the waiter is making his way across the restaurant, clutching a bottle of red wine.

Niall smiles, the skin around his eyes crinkling upwards. “Pretty sure that ship has sailed.”

And then the waiter reaches their table with the bottle of wine and Niall orders an appetizer of mussels, which their waiter haughtily tells them would have gone much better with a bottle of white wine. Niall shrugs and downs his entire glass of red in one go, and Liam breaks into laughter again and forgets all about his resolve to focus on the mission.

The rest of dinner is lovely, of course, and, before he knows it, Liam is back in front of the door to his flat with Niall. It’s a situation that he’s faced several times before, stumbling back from a nice dinner, full of wine and accompanied by someone he likes. Almost always, though, it’s been Danielle on his arm. And it’s absolutely _always _been a girl. It’s certainly never been a man with blue eyes and a quick, raucous laugh whom he’s become fast friends with. Liam twirls his key ring on one finger, looks at Niall, hesitates, looks down at his shoes, looks back up at Niall, hesitates again, and then abruptly comes to a decision. How does that old saying go? In for a penny, in for a pound, perhaps?__

“Can you…..would you mind shoving me up against the door and kissing me?”

Niall stares at him and then coughs out a harsh laugh. “Would I mind? I’ve never in my life had someone so politely ask me to do something to them that is _not _polite at all. You’re something else, Liam Parsons.”__

“I mean…..it’s just that….you’re really great, and I _really _like you, and I really liked tonight, and…” Liam realizes that he’s rambling, and presses his lips together in a determined line. To hell with it. “When I met you four months ago at The Station, I took you back here and you pushed me up against the door and kissed me. And I pushed you off of me. I think about that night a lot.” Niall grimaces. It had not been his finest moment, what with his tensions with Zayn exploding into a fist fight and a night spent on Liam’s couch, his advances rejected.__

“No! Like….not in a bad way. I wish….that I hadn’t pushed you away.” Liam notes Niall’s surprise, and continues. “I guess I’m saying that I want a do-over. I want you to do it again, and maybe this time I’ll have the guts to actually do what I want.”

Niall nods slowly, mulling it over in his head. “Yeah…a do-over could be good.”

“So we’re agreed.”

“Yeah.” And then, to Liam’s relief, Niall steps forward and presses him back against the door. Just like before, his thumbs quickly find their way beneath Liam’s belt and to his hips, where he rubs them in small circles. Liam melts into the kiss as he thumps against the door. _This _is how it should have been the first time, he dreamily thinks as his arms come up to encircle Niall’s neck. Niall moves closer to him and shifts slowly, yet purposefully, against him, pressing his body insistently up against Liam’s. Liam groans, and, emboldened by Niall’s apparent enthusiasm, pushes him away before he can lose his nerve.__

Niall stays planted where he is, his chest unyielding beneath Liam’s palms. When Liam continues to push at him, he slowly pulls away, keeping his hands at Liam’s waist, and reluctantly allows him to put space between them. He looks at Liam with obvious hurt and confusion in his eyes. “I thought you said you wanted-”

“I did! I _do _! But I have to ask you something before I chicken out.”__

“Okay,” Niall murmurs, a frown still creasing his brow.

“Do you want to come in?” There’s a tense moment of silence that lasts far too long. Liam thunks his head against the door. Why isn’t Niall immediately agreeing? He thought that tonight had gone so _well _.__

Finally, the blonde replies. “I don’t think…..” He says slowly, pausing between each word before he trails off into silence. Liam takes advantage of his reticence.

“Come _on _, Niall. Didn’t we already have this conversation last night? I want you, you want me. _You _wanted to take me out on a date, and you did.” Liam reaches out to grab the lapels of Niall’s blazer. “Now, we had a really nice meal and an expensive bottle of wine. This is the part of night where I invite you into my flat and you say yes.”____

“I don’t know…” Niall repeats himself almost verbatim.

Liam looks Niall carefully in the eye. “Niall, I _want _this. You know that I want this, right?” Liam’s not used to verbalizing his feelings like this, and it scares him shitless. But he thinks that Niall might be worth it.__

Niall shifts his weight back and forth from his right foot to his left, and then back again to his right. He meets Liam’s eyes with some difficulty. _Like a pleading, sad puppy _, Niall thinks, not for the first time. “I know I must have sounded pretty confident when I asked if you wanted me last night, but I only asked you because I couldn’t stand not knowing for any longer. I was half expecting you to punch me in the face. _That’s _why I wanted to hear you say it again.” Niall pauses, and Liam can see his chest rise as he sucks in an lungful of air. “I’m just….I’m used to being the one who does the wanting, not the one who’s _wanted _. This is…. _different _for me.” The unspoken presence of Zayn Malik hangs heavily between them. But Liam doesn’t really want to think about him right now.________

“Oh, Niall.” Liam pulls Niall forward by his lapels and gently, timidly, kisses him. “This is really bloody different for me, too. Come inside and maybe we can figure try to figure it out. Together.”

That finally gets a smile from Niall, who reaches up to roughly scrub a hand through Liam’s short, bristly hair. “You’re something else, you know.” he says, echoing his words from earlier.

Liam swallows past the _I love you _in his throat and turns without a word to unlock his front door. Niall makes this difficult for him since he immediately plasters himself against Liam’s back and bites at his neck playfully, and then they’re breathlessly tumbling, laughing, into Liam’s flat and into each other’s arms.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lack of Louis, Harry, and Zayn in this chapter! They'll be in the next one, along with some good old fashioned gang warfare and some Larry angst. Thanks again for reading! I'm falling deeper and deeper in love with these characters as I continue to write them. There's much more to come!


	13. Pick Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roses and football and gang rivalries oh my!
> 
> This update took a bit longer than expected but I think that you'll find it well worth it. As always, thanks for reading! Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Drug references and a brief description of a panic attack.

When Niall wakes up the next morning, his joints stiff and his muscles aching, he rolls over to find himself alone in an unfamiliar bed. For a moment, he’s confused, but then his recollection of the previous night comes rushing back to him and he smothers a fond smile under his palm before he remembers that there’s no one here to mock him for it. Sentimental, Louis would sneer. As if he isn’t nauseatingly domestic with Harry. So Niall allows himself to grin broadly as he stretches, groaning as something in his back pops. As much as he’s enjoying the opportunity to smile stupidly to himself, he’s a bit disappointed that Liam isn’t here for round two. Well, round three, now that he thinks back on what actually went down last night. Still smiling and feeling quite satisfied with himself, Niall swings his legs to the edge of Liam’s bed and sits up. As he does so, he notices a note on the bedside table marked with a dark, heavy scrawl. _Of course he has terrible handwriting _, muses Niall, thinking about Liam’s tendency to terribly misspell everything that he texts to Niall. Not that Niall minds, of course.__

_Off 2 Moe’s for the afternoon shift. Sorry I didn’t say goodbye. You looked so good sleeping nd I didn’t want to wake you. Eat whatever you want for breakfast! xx Liam ___

Niall chuckles at the fact that Liam had felt the need to sign the note. Who else would Niall have assumed it was from? The blonde moves quickly about the room, gathering his clothes from where they had been carelessly strewn the night before. As he pulls on his jeans, he slips the note, carefully folded, into his back pocket. He spends five minutes looking for his shirt, even ducking down to check beneath the bed, before he remembers that Liam had wrestled it off of him in the living room. He retrieves it from where it’s draped over the back of the sofa, but decides to leave his blazer where it is. Niall likes the idea of leaving something of his behind in Liam’s flat, a physical reminder of their night spent together.

He ignores the kitchen as he pulls on his shoes and shuffles out the door, pulling it closed behind him. Why cook breakfast when he has an even better idea of how to occupy his time?

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“You must really trust me if you left me alone in your flat with a note telling me to eat your food. Haven’t you figured out by now that I’m a bottomless pit?”

Liam looks up from where he’d been sweeping a dirty corner of the floor and breaks into a grin. “Niall! Um, hey!”

“ _Um, hey _? That’s the greeting I get for giving you two mind-blowing orgasms last night?”__

Liam blushes bright red, but plays along. “Well, I wouldn’t say mind-blowing-”

Niall cuts him off by leaning into his space and pressing a chaste kiss against his lips. Liam flinches, and Niall immediately pulls back, looking panicked.

“Sorry! Was that-was that not alright?”

Liam looks around the coffee shop, but the only other occupant, his coworker Stan, is obliviously wiping down the espresso machine with a wet rag. Liam can never tell if the kid is high or just bored. Looking back at the anxious tilt of Niall’s mouth, Liam raises a careful hand to brush at the other man’s cheek. “It’s more than alright.”

“Okay, good. Cuz I brought you these.” Niall brings a bouquet of flowers out from where he’d been holding it with one arm behind his back, and Liam feels like an idiot for not noticing that he’d been holding it. In his defense, he’d been more than a little distracted by Niall’s blissful smile and his casual mention of orgasms and his lips-

“Is that…..is that also alright?” Niall tentatively prompts. He’s still not entirely convinced that Liam’s not going to abruptly change his mind and run screaming away from him.

Liam comically slaps a hand against his forehead. “Um, yes. Sorry. I’m being really embarrassing, sorry.”

Niall shakes his head, smiling. “It’s okay.” It’s almost a relief that Liam is a bit awkward about this. Niall’s used to be surrounded by the effortlessly cool Zayn and the always sarcastic Louis. Even Harry, as fragile and hapless as he may seem, usually knows exactly what to say. Caught up in each other’s eyes, the two men miss the small tinkle as the door opens and a customer enters the shop.

“Do you uhhh…do you want to take them?” Niall asks finally, as Liam makes no move to do so.

“Yes! Yes, I do.” Liam finally reaches out and plucks the bouquet from Niall’s grasp. His face is still quite red, but his soft smile gives away the fact that he’s pleased. “I’ll go put them in some water. Do you want a coffee or anything?”

“Irish breakfast tea, please, and maybe one of those little breakfast sandwiches?”

“Coming right up.” Liam grants him one last smile before walking back behind the counter and into the break room to put away the flowers.

“Those are some….really nice flowers. Are they….roses? Quite romantic.” Niall freezes. There’s no mistaking that slow drawl. _Harry _.__

“What are you doing here?” Niall splutters as he wheels around to find his best friend standing right behind him.

“I’m on my lunch break from the radio station. I like to come here and chat with Liam. He’s quite nice to chat with, really. The other day we had a conversation about….oh, what was it? Maybe some lady that came in right in front of me? Yeah…..that’s it. She had….she had ordered the ridiculous, fancy mocha drink thing, and she was being really rude-”

Niall interrupts him, not at all in the mood for one of Harry’s pointless, rambling stories. “Yeah, Liam is really easy to talk to. Listen, could you not mention this to the other lads?”

Before Harry can respond, Liam emerges from the back room and catches sight of him. “Hey, Harry!” He calls out, visibly brightening. And then he remembers that Niall is standing right where he left him and the color drains from his face. _Niall _, who he slept with last night. _Harry’s going to know. But that’s what he wanted, right? Now that he’s Niall’s…date? fuck buddy? boyfriend? whatever he is….maybe the boys will bring him in to their gang. Maybe they’ll find him trustworthy _. Liam shakes his head to clear his rapidly racing thoughts from his head and forces a smile back onto his face. “What can I get ya?”____

“Just the regular, please.”

Liam goes about his motions mechanically as he prepares a coffee for Harry and tea and a sandwich for Niall. As he does so, he keeps one ear cocked towards Niall and Harry, but he hears nothing from either of them until he hands them their orders.

“Thanks!” Harry beams at him as he takes thrusts a couple of bills at Stan, who had finally stopped wiping down the espresso machine in favor of manning the register. Niall remains silent, looking at Harry with narrowed eyes. “Oh! Liam!” Harry comically yanks his own cup away from his lips before he can take a sip. 

“The lads and I are playing footie in the park around the corner this afternoon. Wanna come?”

Niall eyes narrow even further and Liam giggles-chuckles, he’s too dignified to giggle-nervously, thinking back the time when Harry had come into Moe’s and invited him along to karaoke in much the same way. And heaven knows that that had been a disaster. Images of Niall in bed with his lookalike flash across his mind, and Liam blushes. “Uhhh….I’m not sure….”

“Please come,” Harry begs. “That way we’ll have an odd number and I won’t have to play!” When Liam questioningly cocks an eyebrow at him, Harry smirks. “I’m shit at footie, and it always pisses Louis off. He takes our pick up games way too seriously.”

Liam looks to Niall for help, but the blonde remains silent. He’s too busy glaring at Harry to meet even meet Liam’s eyes. Liam makes up his mind abruptly. _Why the hell not _? _And he does need to spend more time around Zayn if he’s going to gain more intel on him _…. “Well, then. As a favor to you, I’ll come.”____

“Brilliant!” Harry’s face lights up as he lunges across the counter to awkwardly clap Liam on the back. “See you later!” He nods in Niall’s direction. “Niall.” And then he spins around and makes his way out of the coffee shop. Niall dashes after him without so much as a word to Liam, his tea and sandwich forgotten on the counter.

“Harry!”

Harry pauses on the sidewalk and allows Niall to catch up to him, sipping daintily at his coffee. “What?”

“Can you _please _not tell the lads that I was here?”__

“And why wouldn’t you want them to know that? I come here all the time-”

“Harry. Please. It’s just…..Liam and I are trying to figure some things out, and I don’t want the lads involved.”

Harry smirks, his dimples framing the cup between his lips. “Involved in what?”

“Jesus, Mary, and _Joseph _, Harry. Can you be my bloody friend for a mo’?”__

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry looks guiltily at Niall. “Sometimes….I forget that not everyone likes to be talked to…the way Lou and I talk to each other.” He reaches out a hand to grasp Niall’s forearm. “You were a really good friend to me when I found out that Lou was dealing again. I won’t say anything to the lads.”

Niall exhales in relief. “Thank you.”

“’Course.” Harry pulls Niall into a hug, wrapping his long arms around his back. “I’ve got to get back to the radio station. I’ll see you at the park?”

“Yeah.” Niall nods in affirmation and turns to walk back to the coffee shop.

“Oh, wait!” Harry shouts, and Niall spins on the sidewalk to face him again.

“What?”

“Is he good in bed?”

Niall can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and he knows that he must be as red as a tomato. “What?!? I don’t-”

“Yes you do. Liam looked well-fucked. Congrats, mate!” And with that, Harry is bouncing away down the street.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Yeah, Lloyd. Same order as last week. It’s going fast. Thanks mate.” Zayn exhales a lungful of smoke and hangs up on the dealer. Lloyd prefers to keep phone conversations short, since it’s highly likely that SOCA’s tapped his line by now. Zayn loves doing business with such a cautious man; it makes his life easier, and it makes him feel so much safer. Emphasis on the feel, of course. Zayn knows that he’ll never actually be safe in his line of work. Not that he minds. Safe is for boring people with boring lives.

He takes one last pull from his cigarette and drops it, grinding it forcefully into the pavement with his football boots. Squinting into the late afternoon sun, he returns the wave sent to him by the tallest of three approaching figures. Harry, probably.

“You really oughta kick that habit, mate.” Zayn glances down towards where Louis is lacing up his own boots.

“Whatever.”

“Whatever,” Louis simpers back at him. “At least don’t smoke before we play. You’re not gonna be able to breathe!”

“Shouldn’t you be more concerned with your boyfriend’s bad habits?” Zayn sharply queries. As soon as he the question slips from his lips, he regrets it. _Low blow _.__

Louis squints up at him, but before he can reply Harry is at their sides along with Niall and….Liam. _Bloody hell _. _Who invited him _?____

It only takes Zayn one glance at Harry’s beaming face to answer his own question.

“Liam!” Louis jumps up and shoots Zayn a smug look that looks a lot like a comeback. “How are ya, mate? Recovered from the party yet? It was hilarious when you jumped into the pool. Perrie almost had a cow,” he cackles gleefully.

“Uh…yeah. I’m feeling much better now, thanks.” Liam blushes, and Niall brushes his hand reassuringly across the small of his back. Zayn thinks about lighting another cigarette.

“You gonna play with us?” Louis asks Liam, sidling up to Harry and copying Niall’s motion by running a hand down Harry’s back. Niall notices, and blushes red enough to match Liam. He sticks his hands in his pockets, making a mental note not to touch Liam around his friends. He doesn’t want them to catch on just yet.

“If Liam plays won’t have even teams.” Zayn says somewhat petulantly. Niall can almost hear the frown in his friend’s voice.

“I brought Liam so that I wouldn’t have to play!” Harry exclaims brightly. “I would much rather sit on the sidelines. Have some time to myslef, you know? I might sketch out a design for my next tattoo, or maybe I’ll make a playlist in case the radio station _actually _lets me host an hour like they promised. But who knows when _that _will happen…” Harry rambles on, mostly to himself, as he flops down on the grass and flips open a notebook. Louis pats his boyfriend affectionately on the head, happy as always to see him in such a good mood.____

“Right, then,” Niall interjects before Zayn can argue with Harry. “What’ll our teams be?”

Louis looks at Niall, his attention diverted from Harry’s musings. “How about me and Liam versus you and Zayn?”

Liam can see a muscle work in Niall’s temple at Louis’ designation of teams, but the blonde simply agrees with a terse “Sure.”

_He probably doesn’t want to argue with Louis _, thinks Liam. Not that he can blame him. It seems that arguing with Louis causes more trouble than it’s worth. He notes, however, that the corners of Zayn’s eyes have crinkled up a bit as he smiles at the prospect of playing alongside Niall. A hot knot of jealousy flares up briefly in Liam’s stomach at the sight, but, before he can process his body’s latest reaction to goddamn Zayn Malik, Louis pipes up again.__

“Great!” Louis reaches over to slap Liam in the stomach. “Just as I suspected! Solid as a rock.” Liam twists out of the range of Louis’ groping hands, sending a desperate, pleading look to Niall, who simply snorts in amusement.

“I just have to see our lovely friend Liam here without his shirt on,” Louis continues, oblivious to Liam’s discomfort. Or, more accurately, unconcerned with it. “It’s been _four months _!” He turns to address Liam directly. “We’ve been friends for four months,” he repeats. “And I still haven’t seen you without a shirt on! We’ll be skins, and you two,” he jabs a finger towards Zayn and Niall, “will be shirts.”__

But of course, as soon as Liam’s shirt is off, Niall is unable to think of anything but the feel of Liam’s skin on his last night, the feel of his muscles under his fingertips. Zayn passes him the ball, and he trips over it, and then proceeds to trip over his own feet. Niall hits the ground in an ungainly heap, and Zayn pauses to offer him a hand up.

Louis cackles manically as he saves the ball from bouncing into the street and dribbles it down the street. “Something distracting, dear Niall?”

“Just play,” grunts Niall as he surges back to his feet. And play they do. Not that Niall’s game gets any better; in fact, it gets worse as he grows increasingly flustered. He can’t tear his eyes away from the muscles clenching and fluttering in Liam’s abdomen, or from the masculine line of his neck sloping down into his shoulder. But perhaps most maddening is that Liam doesn’t even seem to notice the effect that his naked torso has on Niall. He simply laughs and jokes with Louis as they pass the ball easily back and forth, dribbling it down the field. Zayn’s not much help either, since he’s alternating between glaring at Liam and gazing longingly at Niall. By the time they finish the game, Louis and Liam have beaten them three to zero and Niall is so sexually frustrated that he’s in actual physical pain.

Letting out a whoop of victory, Louis clambers up Liam’s back and onto his shoulders. Liam laughs, his eyes scrunching up in mirth. For a moment, Louis balances there, but then he tugs heartily at Liam’s hair, which has grown out considerably since Niall first met him. Liam lets out a startled yep, and the two men abruptly tip over onto the ground where they wriggle around giggling, still shirtless. Louis pushes Liam over onto his back, moving to straddle his hips. At that, Niall drops his water bottle and stalks over to them. Niall’s not a particularly jealous man, but he slept with Liam _last night _. _Twice _. And he’ll be damned if he lets Louis get his hands all over Liam like that. Before he can reach them, Louis’ hands dart out and tweak at Liam’s nipples. And _that’s _the last straw.______

“Get the fuck off him, mate,” Niall snarls as he pushes at Louis’ shoulder. Louis, however, refuses to be budged from his perch atop Liam’s hips.

“Calm down, Nialler. We’re just playing.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t exactly sit in _your _boyfriend’s lap when we’re ‘playing,’ do I?” At Niall’s words, Louis’ body freezes as he eerily swivels his head around. Niall can feel Zayn’s eyes boring into the back of his head, and he can hear Harry’s low, raspy laugh. He keeps his eyes trained carefully on Louis, not daring to look at where Liam is pinned beneath his knees. He's not exactly sure what Liam's reaction to that title will be.__

“ _Boyfriend _?” Louis repeats.__

And now Niall is embarrassed. Embarrassed _and _sexually frustrated. _Great _, he thinks. “Uhhhhh…..yes?” he manages to squeak, his breath short.____

“Boyfriend?” And then he can hear Zayn quietly echoing Louis’ words, and he has no idea what he ought to say. Even if he did know what to say, he probably wouldn’t be able to say it. Luckily, Harry chooses this moment to get off of his ass and save him.

“Come off it, Lou. Let Liam up.”

“Oh, do you mean _this _Liam?” Louis jabs a pointer finger down at the man trapped beneath him. “Liam, Niall’s _boyfriend _, Liam?”____

Harry valiantly tries again. “Lou-”

“No.” Louis fixes Niall with another accusatory stare. “When exactly _were _you planning on telling us that Liam is your boyfriend? Because as of two nights ago, you two were _not _dating. In fact, I think I remember a certain blonde little Irishman deliberately flirting with Zayn in full view of our new friend Liam Parsons here.”____

And now Niall is _definitely _short of breath. As a matter of fact, he can’t breathe. Now that he comes to think of it, he can’t see very well either. A roaring sound fills his ears as begins to panic. This happens sometimes; when everything happens at once and it all seems like too much. He focuses on his breathing, counting measured inhales like the school therapist taught him in primary school. Suddenly, there’s a large, solid hand curling around his shoulder and warm brown eyes peering into his. _Liam _.____

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” croaks Niall. Liam doesn’t seem to believe him, and pulls him into his arms. Niall anchors himself against Liam, pushing his face into his still bare chest and shakily exhaling. He closes his eyes and slowly breathes in the reassuring smell of Liam’s skin, letting it push all of the thoughts out of his mind. _Don’t think about Louis, don’t think about Zayn, don’t think about flirting with Zayn, no, don’t think about using Zayn to make Liam jealous _. _Just think about Liam _. _Liam _, _Liam _, _Liam _.__________

When Niall lifts his head from Liam’s chest after what seems like an eternity, he finds Louis standing nearby looking at him guiltily. Harry has a restraining hand wrapped around Louis’ bicep, probably to prevent him from disrupting the tender moment. Zayn stands a bit further away, an unlit cigarette clenched between his teeth and his lighter gripped so tightly in his fist that his dusky knuckles have turned white.

“Sorry, Niall,” Louis says in a hushed voice. “I forget, sometimes…”

“It’s fine,” Niall murmurs, stepping out of Liam’s arms. He hates it when Louis treats him as if he’s a fragile, breakable creature because he’s _not _. He’s strong, and tough, and smart, and he’s saved all of their asses several times over. But then he’ll have a panic attack and everyone tiptoes around him. He knows how this goes. But Liam….Liam’s not looking at him like he’s breakable. He’s just….looking.__

“Can we go back to yours?” Niall’s question is directed at Liam, who immediately begins to nod.

“Of course.” Two walk away from the park without another word to the other men, their arms slung about each other.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Zayn walks back to The Station alone, preoccupied with thoughts of _boyfriend _and _deliberately flirting _and other things, feelings that don’t quite have a name or neat label. In fact, he’s so preoccupied with his thoughts that when he unlocks the front door and flips on the lights, he fails to notice the large, hulking figure seated at one of the side tables.____

“Zayn.”

Zayn nearly jumps out of his skin. “Holy shit. Paul! What the fuh….” He trails off and glances around at his bar, looking for other occupants. Is Paul here to kill him? Did he bring thugs with him to beat him up? Or is he just going to do it himself?

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” Paul interrupts Zayn’s frantic train of thought.

_Yeah _, _you did _, thinks Zayn. Instead, he says, “Oh. What are you doing here?”____

Paul leans forward, bracing his thick forearms menacingly on the table. “I’m not gonna laugh and ask you if an old friend can’t stop by simply to say hello in some odd attempt to intimidate you. You’re a smart boy, Zayn, always have been. You have enough common sense to be intimidated by me already. I'll spare you the bullshit.”

Zayn nods from where he’s standing, frozen, at the door. He knows not to speak. During his time as a drug courier for Paul, he’d learned that it was always best to let him have his say. He’d once seen the man beat a dealer senseless with his bare hands for giving him lip while he was talking to him.

“So let me tell you why I’m really here.” Paul stands up, the metal legs of the chair screeching against the concrete floor of The Station, and moves around the table in order to stand directly in front of Zayn. “Tomlinson is dealing again. Except, this time, he’s distributing to other _dealers _as well as customers. Now, _where _would a little twerp like Tomlinson get enough product to do that? Why isn’t he slinging smack on the street like he used to?”____

Zayn’s eyes bulge, but, again, he knows better than to speak.

“And at first I thought….maybe he’s hooked up with a trafficker. But when I asked around, everyone swore up and down that they weren’t supplying him.” Zayn clenches his jaw. That part, at least, is true. He _had _told Lloyd that he wasn’t working with Louis.__

“Which makes sense…..blokes like us stay ahead of SOCA and pigs like Commander Cowell because we don’t work with impulsive idiots like Tomlinson. So.” Paul brings up a hand to absently stroke at his chin. “Then I thought about who might be reliable enough to be trusted by big time traffickers but also stupid enough to work with Tomlinson.” Paul drops his hand in favor of crossing his arms in front of his chest. “And I could only think of one person. You.”


	14. Boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Drug use. Brief mention of suicide. Racial slur.
> 
> ANGST Y'ALL. LOT'S OF ZIALL AND NIAM ANGST. ANGST FOR EVERYONE. You're welcome. 
> 
> As always, enjoy!

“No!” Zayn blurts out. Paul looks at back at him impassively, his arms still folded across his chest. Zayn takes a deep, steady breath and steels himself. He has to sell this, or Paul will kill him.

“Paul….you know I would never disobey you. I respect, and _fear _, you too much for that. When you dropped me from your crew after that shit with Eleanor last year and told me to stay out of the business, I _stayed _out of the business."____

Paul nods to himself, looking around the bar silently. Moments that feel more like months pass in silence, and Zayn wills himself to stay silent. “Right. Out of the business. You know, Zaynie boy….” He pauses and glances at Zayn, carefully considering his face. “This is an awful nice bar for someone who doesn’t have any dirty money to pay for it.”

“Loans,” Zayn quickly spits out.

“Who the hell would loan to a skinny little gang banger like you?”

“Other Pakis,” Zayn utters the slur without any hesitation. He’d long ago learned to compartmentalize his feelings about them. “You know us brown people,” he says, forcing a self-deprecating laugh into his voice. “We all know each other.”

Paul seems to realize that Zayn is poking humor at himself, and not at him, and gives him a grim little smile in response. “Whatever you say, lad.” He runs a hand across his balding head. “I’ll give you one last chance to own up,” he says, dragging the conversation brusquely back on track. “If you don’t come clean about dealing heroin with Tomlinson and I find out later that you’re doing it, I’ll kill you.” Paul states this calmly, like it’s a fact. Because it is a fact. Paul is not one to make empty, emotional threats.

Zayn swallows heavily. “Paul, I swear to you. I have not been dealing with him. I am not back in the business, and I never will be.”

Paul suddenly breaks into a smile, which is almost frightening on his normally somber face. Zayn notes that it doesn’t meet his eyes; it’s the same smile that Paul had often worn upon learning about the weaknesses of his rivals. “That’s all I needed to hear, laddie.” He turns to leave, and Zayn forces himself to call after him.

“You want a pint?” Again, he forces his voice to sound cheery and this time he even manages to plaster a smile onto his face as he gestures magnanimously to the bar behind them.

The smile Paul gives him in return is a bleak and as false as his first one. At least the looks on their faces match. “Nah, thanks lad. I’ll be seeing ya.”

As soon as the door swings shut behind Paul, Zayn frantically digs through his pockets with numb fingers and grasps for his mobile. He unlocks it with the swipe of a trembling finger and manages to hit the number of the last person he called. “Come on, come on,” he hisses through clenched teeth as the dial tone rings. “Pick up, Niall. Pick up.”

\--------------------------------------------------

 

Liam waits to ask the question until after they’ve reached his flat, after he’s held Niall until he’s stopped trembling, and after they’ve stripped each other of their clothes and made love and are lying, sleepy and sated, in his bed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Niall sighs and shifts in his grip, snaking one narrow ankle out to tangle it in Liam’s shins. “Not really…but we probably should.” He sighs again and looks away from Liam and at a spot on the wall. Liam doesn’t move an inch, and he doesn’t move his eyes from Niall’s face. “I guess you’ve got questions.”

“Not really.”

Niall looks back at him incredulously. “No questions?”

“No…but...you can tell me whatever you want to tell me.”

“You know you’re bloody perfect, right? Has anyone ever told you that before?” Liam blushes, pleased, but says nothing. “I’ve got…I’ve got a bit of an anxiety thing.” Niall pauses, and then seems to decide that that’s not a sufficient explanation. “It’s never really been a big deal…back home in Mullingar I would sometimes talk to the school therapist about it, but that was it. And then….when I came here….and met Zayn and Louis and Harry….” He trails off again. “There were bigger things happening than my anxiety. Like, Harry was addicted to heroin and had all kinds of problems and then he tried to kill himself….twice…..” Liam can see tears gathering in Niall’s deep blue eyes, and brushes a cautious thumb across the soft skin under his eyes. “So my anxiety wasn’t a big deal.” Niall snuffles a bit and then forces a watery smile onto his face. “And it really isn’t. I get panic attacks in crowded places, and sometimes things are just too much. Like with Lou, back there on the pitch.”

“Boyfriend,” Liam says suddenly, and then he’s clapping a hand over his mouth and blushing furiously.

Niall quirks up a brow in a look that’s equal parts entertainment and equal parts confusion, and, in Liam’s humble opinion, one hundred percent sexy. “I spill my guts to you, and _that’s _what you have to say? One word? ‘Boyfried?’”__

Liam peeks at Niall guiltily. “I do…I do have a question. You told Louis I was your boyfriend, and then the whole thing happened….so I guess what I’m asking is….am I….am I really your boyfriend?”

The grin that suffuses Niall’s face is immediate and bright, almost glowing. He belts out a loud laugh from somewhere deep in his chest, curling over to grab his stomach as he shakes uncontrollably. Liam startles back, surprised by Niall’s reaction. “‘Am I…..am I…’” Niall is laughing so hard than he can barely get out what he wants to say. “‘Am I your boyfriend?’” He makes brief eye contact with Liam before doubling over to clutch his stomach again.

“I think it’s a fair question,” Liam mumbles, his cheeks red.

“You dolt,” Niall manages to wheeze through his howls. But then, he abruptly stops laughing and, moving so quickly that he takes Liam completely by surprise, rolls over onto him, pinning the other’s forearms down to the mattress. Niall grins triumphantly down at Liam. “Of course you’re my boyfriend, eejit.” He schools his smile into a mock frown. “What, did you think I had a bloke on the side or summat?”

“No, no.” Liam shakes his head furiously. “I wanted to make sure that we were on the same page.”

Niall rolls his eyes fondly. “Yeah, I think we are. Do you want to be my boyfriend?” Liam nods vigorously up at him. “Good,” he says simply, and then hee leans down and kisses Liam, who immediately melts into him.

Liam reaches his arms around Niall’s back, dragging his boyfriend- _his boyfriend _\- impossibly closer on top of him. “Yeah sounds, good,” he breathes. He can feel Niall smirk against his lips in response and deepen the kiss and then-__

Then Niall’s phone rings. “Fuck,” Niall groans and rolls off of Liam as quickly as he had rolled on top of him. “I should get that. It’s probably Louis calling to apologize again. If I don’t take his call he’ll keep calling until I pick up,” Niall grumbles as he swings his legs out of the bed and stands up, padding quickly over to his where his phone is laying in a pile of clothes on Liam’s bedroom floor. Liam smiles and sits up a bit, watching Niall walk away from him.

“Hello? Zayn?”

And just like that, the smile drops from Liam’s face. What does _he _want?__

“Yeah….no….Zayn… _Zayn _….calm down. Is Louis there? Okay. Zayn. Calm down.” Niall turns back to mouth _sorry _at Liam and then he’s moving wildly about the bedroom, gathering up his possessions. “Yeah….yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll be over in a mo’. Yeah, I’ll text you when I’m close. I’ll _be _there. Okay. Okay. Talk to you soon.” He turns to Liam. “Can I borrow some clothes? I don’t really want to wear my sweaty clothes.”______

Liam gets out of bed, slipping a pair of boxers on quickly. “Yeah, of course. What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine.” The harried look on Niall’s face betrays him. “Zayn’s in a spot of trouble at The Station and I need to go help him out,” he says as he roots through Liam’s dresser for a pair of jeans and a clean t shirt. “Nothing serious,” he adds hastily when his remark is met with silence. “He just need another pair of hands.” He pulls on Liam’s clothes quickly and then steps up to him, hands reaching out clasp around Liam’s waist. “But I have to go. I swear I wouldn’t go unless I had to.”

Liam presses lips into a tight smile. “No, it’s fine. Go. You’ve got a job, you’ve got a life. I know you can’t spend all evening in bed with me.”

Niall smiles wickedly, and Liam swears that he sees a bit of Louis in his face. “But I would like to. Especially since you’ve just figured out that you’re my boyfriend. Another time, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Great.” Niall kisses Liam one last time before he dashes across the flat and out of the door. “I’ll call you!” he yells over his shoulder as the door slams shut.

As soon as he leaves, Liam sits heavily back down on his bed. Niall’s _lying _to him. The breathlessness, the sharp rise of his chest, the dilation of his pupils. But of course he is. Zayn doesn’t need Niall’s help loading in a shipment of alcohol or stopping up a leak at the bar; he needs his help with something drug related. From Niall’s tone of voice, Zayn must have been pretty frantic. And when had Liam ever seen him in such a state? Zayn was normally so cool and unflappable. Niall is definitely going to help out with some aspect of their operation, and he is definitely lying about it to Liam.__

And Liam knows this because he’s been _trained _to look for the physical tells that people often exhibit when lying. And Liam’s been trained because he’s an _undercover police officer _and Niall is not really his boyfriend.____

Liam stands upright from the bed and pulls on his clothes in quick, jerky movements. He yanks on his shoes and then he’s out of his flat without even thinking about where he’s going. His feet take him into a nearby shop and right up to the liquor section before he even realizes where he is. He reaches for a bottle of whiskey. Jameson, Niall’s favorite. He’s going to need to drink a lot of it to blur the fact that he’s not allowed to love Niall from his mind. But he has faith in himself. He thinks he can do it.

\------------------------------------------------------

 

“Zayn!” Niall pushes at the front door of The Station and slips through, taking the keys out of his pocket and locking it behind him. Inside, the only light is that of the sunset, streaming in through the windows placed high up on the wall. Niall can just make out Zayn’s silhouette perched atop the bar, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. “Where is everyone?” Normally at this time of night, the bartenders would be bustling around preparing for their shifts.

“Where the fuck do you think?” Zayn’s voice is high and tight, and at first Niall thinks that he’s been crying. Then he hears him exhale and _oh _that’s not a cigarette that he’s smoking. “I told everyone to go home. The Station isn’t gonna open tonight.”__

“Are you okay?”

“Not really,” snorts Zayn, taking another drag from his joint. “Paul Higgins came in here and threatened to kill me.” Niall nods. Zayn had already told him that on the phone.

“But he didn’t. Kill you, I mean.” Niall hops up on the bar to join his friend and crosses his legs underneath him, reaching one hand for the joint. Zayn passes it to him and he brings it to his lips, slowly inhaling. Immediately, he can feel a familiar tingle deep in his lungs and a lightness in his head. He holds in the smoke for a moment and then slowly exhales, already a bit more relaxed than he’d been a minute ago. Lying to Liam had really put him on edge. Well, not lying. He just hadn’t been completely honest with him.

“That’s because he has no proof. He’s pretty sure that I’m supplying Louis with heroin, but he likes me so he won’t kill me until he’s absolutely certain.” Zayn takes the joint from Niall and inhales deeply. He lets out the smoke with a bitter laugh. “I’m lucky that way, I guesss.”

“Yeah,” Niall agrees. They sit in silence on the dusty counter for a while, passing the joint back and forth as the last of the sun’s rays fade. When they finish, Zayn hops off the counter to trash the joint and flick on some of neon beer signs behind the bar, casting a colorful, muted glow about The Station. Niall has sprawled out flat on his back, his limbs thick and liquid with the weed, and when Zayn clambers back onto the bar he takes a seat near where Niall’s head is. He reaches out a slow, careful hand and tentatively taps Niall’s head. When the blonde doesn’t immediately object, Zayn strokes his fingers slowly through his hair. Niall hums and lets his eyes slide shut.

“Did you tell Louis?” Niall finally asks.

“Not yet.”

“You should. It sounds like he’s in danger.” Niall hums a bit to himself and strokes his hands across the rough material of the jeans Liam let him borrow. “Do you think Paul will go after him?”

“I’m not sure.” Zayn pauses, and his hand stills, still buried in Niall’s hair. “Yeah, he might. But, _Allah _,” he breathes. “When is that boy not in danger? He is incapable of keeping his fucking head down.”__

“You could say that again.”

Zayn bends slightly, looking down wistfully at Niall. “Things were simpler last year, y’know? When we were still a part of Paul’s crew and _protected _. But now that we’re on our own…” He trails off and Niall opens his eyes to look sharply up at him.__

“Things happened the way they happened. The whole thing with Eleanor was _bloody _awful, but it’s over now. And now we’ve got a business of our own. The Station is your- _our _-baby.”____

“I know. But I miss…..I miss you, Niall.”

“That’s the weed talking.”

“No, it’s not. It was different when you were out fucking random blokes, but now you’ve got a boyfriend and….I miss what we had. I miss what we were.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation again, Zayn.”

“Okay.” But then Zayn is leaning down to kiss him, his long lean body arching into Niall’s field of vision. For a second, Niall freezes. Zayn tastes so familiar, that blend of weed and cigarettes and something else that is so uniquely Zayn. But then he jerks away, his nails scrabbling against the wood of the bar as he struggles to get down. He lands rather ungracefully on the floor of The Station and then surges back to his feet.

“No, no, no.”

“Niall-”

“ _No _. I don't want to hear it. We’ve had this discussion a _million times _. We decided that it was over months ago because it was better for both of us. _We _. _We _decided that. But now you want me back because I’ve got a boyfriend and because big, scary ole Paul threatened you? No.” Niall stomps away towards the door of The Station, pausing to look back at the stunned other man before he leaves. “Call Louis. And grow the fuck up Zayn.” Zayn starts visibly at his words. “I’m not that little boy that you brought over as a _fuck toy _from Mullingar anymore,” Niall spits, incensed that Zayn seems so shocked. “I’m your business partner, and we’ll think about what to do about Paul tomorrow. Right now I’m going to go home to my handsome boyfriend.” And with those last words, Niall vanishes into the night.__________

\--------------------------------------------------

 

_Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang _.__

Liam groggily raises his head and stares blankly at the door of his flat from where he’s half sprawled over his couch. “No one s’ home,” he slurs before turning back to look at the mobile on the table in front of him. The burn phone. He lifts his right hand, bringing the mostly empty bottle of golden whiskey to his lips and taking a generous swig. He doesn’t even grimace against the burn of the alcohol sliding down his throat; it doesn’t hurt that much.

_Bang. Bang. Bang _.__

“I said,” Liam snarls, this time not looking away from the burn phone. “No one ‘s home. Go ‘way.” He frowns churlishly and takes another sloppy swig from the bottle, liquid dribbling down his chin. Ignoring the incessant knocking, he reaches out his free hand to snatch up the burn phone. He’s almost overcome by the urge to throw it as far away from him as possible, to smash it against the wall. But he knows he can’t do that. Instead, he clutches it tightly in his fist. _I should call Dani, right _? His thoughts are a confused whirl in his head. He should tell his sweet, loyal girlfriend that the cheery little gangster who’s been fucking him is helping Zayn Malik deal heroin. He groans and scrubs the phone holding the burn across his forehead.__

_Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang _.__

“Liam! Open up! It’s Niall!”

_Fuck. Niall _? Liam jumps off the couch, drops the open bottle of Jameson onto the coffee table, and hurries into his bedroom, where he stashes the burn phone at the bottom of his sock drawer. Now that Niall’s been in his bed, it’s too risky to hide it in his bedside table. “One sec’,” he mutters, lurching towards to door. He reaches it, and it takes him a few seconds longer than it should to fumble with the locks. _Fuck, I’m really drunk _.____

And then Niall is pushing into his flat, closing the door behind him and stepping right into Liam’s personal space. “Are you drunk?” he asks, peering into his eyes.

“Uh….yes? Yes.”

Niall glances behind Liam and catches sight of the bottle of Jameson. “Did you drink all of that by yourself? I thought that you couldn’t stand to drink liquor straight.”

“Yeah….was by m’self. And I can’t.”

“But you did.” Niall looks at him with narrowed eyes. Liam suddenly realizes that Niall is standing close to him and yet, distressingly, the blonde isn’t touching him. Liam wants to touch Niall, but he can’t manage to move his arms. When it becomes clear that Liam isn’t going to answer him, Niall speaks again. “Why did you drink so much?” He lowers his voice to a soft, gentle tone. “Does this….does this happen often?”

“No! No. ‘M not…..not…..an….alcoholic.” Liam grins, proud of himself for remembering the word. Niall shakes his head despairingly and grabs Liam’s arm. Liam rejoices in the fact that Niall is touching him for a brief moment, and then Niall is dragging him over to the couch and forcing him to sit down.

“Here….you sit here. I’m gonna get you some water.” Niall dashes over to Liam’s little kitchen and returns with a glass of tap water. “Here. Try to finish the glass. But slowly.”

Liam obeys, because, at this point, he knows that he’ll do anything Niall asks of him. That this _criminal _asks of him. He is so _fucked _.____

“So why did you decide to get roaring drunk all by your lonesome?”

Liam heaves a dramatic sigh. “You weren’ here.” He pauses, but Niall doesn’t say anything. So Liam keeps talking. “You weren’ here….cause you wen’ t’ see Malik.” He belatedly realizes that he’s called Zayn be his last name, but it doesn’t seem to phase Niall. “You….you left me to go see Zayn.” Niall opens his mouth to speak, but Liam barrels ahead. “An’ you lied…..you _lied _,” he slurs. “You lied about why.”__

Next to him, Niall freezes and Liam belatedly realizes his mistake. _Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. It’s all gonna come out. He knows that I’m suspicious….he’s gonna figure out that I’m a police officer _.__

To Liam’s surprise, Niall simply sighs and reaches out to affectionately wrap a big hand around the back of Liam’s neck. “Oh, Liam. Liam, Liam, Liam.”

“Um…..”

“No, it’s okay. It’s okay. You….you’re a smart bloke. You were gonna figure it out sooner or later. I knew that. You know…” Niall looks Liam carefully in the eyes. “You know that there’s no way that we make all of our money from a shitty bar.”

And that was not what Liam had expected. He leans forward eagerly. “I saw….that bouncer….at Perrie’s party….he knew Zayn an’ he was _afraid _of him….I think? An’….an’,” He pauses to hiccup and leans even farther forward to whisper conspiratorially. “I saw him give tha’ baggie t’ the bouncer.”__

Niall nods grimly. “I wish that we were having this conversation when you were sober….but I guess…there was never gonna be a good time to talk about it, was there?” Liam dimly realizes that it’s a rhetorical question and doesn’t answer. “Okay. There’s no easy way to say this, but….uh….Liam, we’re dealing heroin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a bit shorter than my chapters usually are, but I really liked Niall's confession as an ending to the chapter. Also, I'll be really busy next week and wanted to get this posted while I still could! Hope you liked it!


	15. The Albatross About My Neck Was Hung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Brief mention and discussion of suicide (not much different from the mentions in previous chapters). Brief sequence of mild violence. Mention of drugs/drug use.
> 
> Happy belated Valentine's day! As always, thanks for reading. Feed me with comments! I love hearing from you.

“Listen, Lou….you gotta keep a lower profile. Paul just stopped by the bar and we had a nice little chat-”

“ _What? _”__

“Yeah. And he knows, Louis. He knows that you’ve been dealing again and he’s figured out that it’s me supplying you. Or at least he suspects.” 

“Shit.” 

“I know. So….you’ve gotta lay low for a while, okay? Don’t sell to people who know who you are.” 

“But _Zayn _! That eliminates half of our customer base, if not more! I’ve got a _reputation _. Everyone knows who I am.”____

Zayn clenches his jaw, the muscle in his temple working harder. He hisses into the phone, “Yeah, well, you don’t exactly try to fly under the radar, do you?” There’s silence at the other end of the line. “But you’re going to have to try, for both our sakes. You know just as well as I what Paul is capable of. We’re lucky that he let us off with a warning this time.” 

“Yeah, alright.” 

“Alright. See you soon. And _keep your fucking head down _.”__

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“ _Heroin _.”__

“Yes.” 

“ _Heroin _.”__

“Are you just gonna repeat that?” Niall says, and then immediately looks guilty. “Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t joke about this.” 

“Just….give me a minute.” Liam raises his free hand to scrub at his eyes, and Niall deftly plucks the empty water glass out of his other one. Liam wishes desperately that he was sober for this. Never in a million years did he think Niall would tell him this, and he doesn’t know how to react. He’s _sure _they went over this in his undercover training, because the whole point of being undercover is _that they tell him what they’re doing _, but _fuck _he doesn’t remember what to do. He knows he has to act shocked-which is doable, because he is shocked that Niall is trusting him with this information-but he doesn’t know what else to do. It’s a precarious moment-he can’t scare Niall off. He needs to show him that he’s worthy of the trust he’s just placed in him. Liam takes a deep, shuddering breath and looks up to meet Niall’s worried eyes. “I don’t….I don’t understand. I mean….I thought….maybe it was drugs…but _heroin _?”________

Niall sighs again. “Yeah, I know. I guess I should start from the beginning. Hold on, let me get you another glass of water before we get into it.” He stands up to do so and Liam sits, frozen and staring into space, until he returns. 

“Thanks,” mutters Liam reaching up to grasp the glass that Niall offers him. The blonde sits back down next to him. 

“So. The beginning. I uhhh….I met Zayn Malik when I was seventeen.” Liam tenses at the mention of Zayn, and Niall places a comforting hand on his knee. He doesn’t move to touch him other than that, and Liam notices that he was careful to leave a barrier of empty space between them when he sat back down on the couch. 

“He was in Mullingar doing business for Paul-that’s the old drug lord we used to work for-and we met and we….uhhh….hooked up. One thing led thing to another and I ending up leaving Ireland to come to London with him.” Liam frowns at that, but doesn’t say anything. There’s more to the story than Niall’s telling him; he can’t picture seventeen year old Niall leaving his home and his family to live with a man he barely knew practically at the drop of the hat. 

“I knew what he did for a living before I left with him…but I didn’t really _know _. I didn’t quite get it. I mean, how could I? I was a bloody kid.” Niall pauses to bow his head and pinch the skin between his eyebrows. He leaves his other hand on Liam’s knee.__

“So I was alone with Zayn in a city I’d never even visited. I met his friends-Harry and Louis-and I moved in with him and I was completely caught up in their lifestyle. It was bloody _glamorous _compared to what I was used to growing up in Ireland.” Liam thinks back to that night spent on the back of a motorcycle, speeding through the glimmering London night, and at a rooftop party full of beautiful people. He nods. He can see how a young Niall could have gotten lost in all of that.__

“And when I realized that it wasn’t glamorous, that it was actually bloody and violent and _awful _, it was too late.” Again Liam frowns, but, again, he doesn’t press for more information.__

“I was a kid in a strange city with no friends except for Zayn and Harry and Louis and I had absolutely no prospects. I didn’t finish school or anything…I dropped out of college to be with Zayn, but it’s not like I could have gotten into uni anyway. My grades were always terrible because I didn’t give a shit.” Niall shrugs. “So I got into the business….dealing heroin,” he clarifies. “And I stayed in the business because I didn’t have many other options.” He pauses, and then continues. “We stopped working for Paul, struck out on our own, and opened up The Station so we could launder our dirty money through it.” 

Liam nods slowly, mulling over the information. “And….you and Zayn?” 

Niall doesn’t look at him when he answers him. “We broke up. Probably for the best. It was….it got quite ugly towards the end.” 

“Perrie?” Liam guesses, thinking back to what Zayn’s girl had told him at her party.

Niall looks surprised, and then worried. “I didn’t know you two talked about me and Zayn. What did she say?” 

“Not much. I just…got the impression that maybe she was involved in your break up?” 

“Yeah. But she wasn’t the reason for it.” Niall looks down at his lap, and doesn’t seem inclined to talk any further. 

“So you….so you four are dealing heroin and using The Station as a front for your actual business.” Liam repeats. He’s starting to feel a bit more lucid, thank god. 

“That’s the long and short of it, yeah.” 

“Shit.” Liam puts the glass down on the table and slumps over, digging his eyes into his palms. After a moment, Niall takes his hand off of Liam’s knee to instead rub comfortingly at his back. 

“I’m really sorry, Liam. You’re a great guy and I shouldn’t have kept this from you. I never should have gotten involved with you-” Niall stops when Liam mumbles something into his hands. He leans closer to the still slumped over man. “Sorry, what was that? I didn’t catch it.” 

Liam raises his head from his hands, his eyes slightly bloodshot from the whiskey and full of tears. “I said, I love you.” 

Niall’s hand freezes on Liam’s back. There’s a tense moment of silence that seems to last for ages and then-“ _What _?”__

“I love you.” Liam finds that it’s easier to say it the third time; each time he repeats it, a knot that he didn’t even realize was there loosens in his chest. 

“I heard you that time, but I… _what _? I tell you that I’m involved in a _major _heroin trafficking operation and you tell me that you _love me _?”______

“I know that it’s-that it’s early in our relationship but-”

“Yeah, but _that’s _not the issue. Your response to the fact that I deal _heroin _for a living is that you love me? That’s bloody insane, Liam.”____

Liam pouts and fuck, maybe he’s still a little drunk. “I wanted to tell you….because I do. I do love you. I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you ever since we went on that fishing trip together and you dove into the water like you didn’t give a fuck about _anything _. It took me a while to realize it, but I _did _. This doesn’t change how I feel about you, and I want you to know that,” Liam rambles, his tongue loosened by the liquor.____

“ _Fuck _, Liam. It _should _. It bloody should change how you feel about me.”____

“It doesn’t,” Liam says, continuing to stubbornly pout. 

“ _God _, you’re so-” Niall stops before he says it, because he doesn’t know _what _Liam is. Stupid? Wonderful? Absolutely mental? He moves his hand slowly from Liam’s back in favor of clutching at his own thigh, and the two sit quietly, not touching, on the couch.____

Finally, Liam speaks again. “Maybe you’re right,” he concedes. “Maybe it should. But it _doesn’t _. You were with Zayn even though-” At that, Niall seems to come back to life. He whips his entire upper body around and grabs Liam’s face, holding it tightly between his hands.__

“Don’t you ever,” he whispers harshly, tears gathering in his eyes. “Compare what we have to me and Zayn. This is nothing like that, okay?” Liam doesn’t say anything, and he can feel Niall’s fingers tighten on his face. He’s never seen Niall like this. He’s not…angry. Desperate, maybe. 

“ _Nothing _like it. This is better. This is everything that _wasn’t _. I….I love you too, Liam.” And with that, tears finally pool in Liam’s eyes, too. A strangled sob bursts from his chest, and he launches himself across the couch, clinging tightly to Niall.____

“Okay, okay.” Niall murmurs, stroking a shaking hand through Liam’s hair. “Shhhh….shhhh.” He rocks Liam gently back and forth. “Why don’t we…why don’t we talk about this tomorrow when you’re more yourself.” Liam nods into Niall’s neck. “Good. Now, up you come.” He stands up from the couch, and, before Liam can protest, leans down to scoop him up into arms. “My turn ta’ take care of ya’, alrigh’?” Liam simply nods again, too emotionally spent to talk. 

Niall carries him into the bedroom and lowers him onto the bed, where he slowly strips him of all of his clothes except his boxers. “Try ta’ get some sleep.” He tucks the blankets in around him. 

Niall turns to leave and, as he does so, hears Liam murmur a weak “Stay.” 

The blonde rests his forehead against the doorframe. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You might change your mind about….everything….in the morning when you’ve sobered up. I wanna give you some space.” 

“No. ‘m not gonna change my mind.” 

“Liam-”

“Stay.” 

For what must be the hundredth time that night, Niall heaves a weary sigh. “Okay,” he whispers. He shuffles back into the bedroom, shrugs out of his shirt, and slips in bed next to Liam. Immediately, Liam reaches out an arm to pull Niall tightly against his chest. 

“Don’t leave, okay?” 

“I won’t.” 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

When Liam wakes up the next morning, Niall isn’t in his arms anymore. For a minute, he panics, his stomach turning cartwheels. But then he smells eggs cooking. Grinning to himself, he flips back the covers and gets out of bed. He pads quietly to the door of his bedroom and looks out. Niall is standing at the stove, clad only in a pair of sweatpants. 

“I could get used to this.” At the sound of Liam’s voice, Niall drops the spatula he’d been holding and spins around. 

“ _Jesus _, you gave me a fright.”__

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” Niall turns back to the stove. “Don’t distract me again…..we both know I’m useless at cooking. Don’t wanna burn these eggs.” So Liam sits at the table and waits patiently, even though he’s itching to touch Niall. Niall finishes and plates the eggs, walking over to sit down next to Liam. As soon as he does, he smacks himself on the forehead. “ _Idiot _. I forgot to make coffee. D’ you want tea or something?”__

Liam smiles and grabs his fork. “It’s okay. These eggs look great.” He wants to bring up last night, but he can’t manage to just yet. Instead, he says nothing and they eat breakfast in silence. 

Niall clears his plate quickly, practically scarfing down the eggs, and then waits for Liam to do so as well, watching him with careful eyes. When Liam finishes eating a few minutes later, Niall clears his throat. “So. Last night. You were pretty drunk, and I don’t know how much you remember…”

“Everything.” 

“Everything?” 

“You told me you deal heroin, and I told you that I loved you. And you…you said it back.” 

“Yeah. I….don’t know if you meant it, but I did.” 

Liam reaches across the table to wrap his hand around Niall’s wrist. “I did.” 

Niall smiles, somewhat grimly, and he suddenly looks much older than his nineteen years. “I still think it’s a bad fucking idea. It was selfish of me to start seeing you in the first place.”

Now, sober and rested, Liam feels a bit bolder than he did last night. “So leave.”

“I don’t want to.” Niall looks like a man resigned to his fate, and it makes Liam’s heart hurt. This should be happy. It shouldn’t hurt this much.

“Good. Because I don’t want you to leave, either.” There’s a moment of silence, and then Liam realizes that Niall is waiting for something. So he says, “I love you.” He thinks that Niall might want to hear him say it one more time while sober.

And he’s right. The clouds on Niall’s face disappear and he breaks into a tremulous smile. “I love you too. God help me, I love you too.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

When Louis shoulders his way heavily through the front door of The Station the next week and unceremoniously ducks underneath the bar to pour himself a glass of beer, Zayn doesn’t even looks up from polishing a particularly sticky spot on the bar’s surface. He’s been at The Station mopping floors and wiping down glasses by himself since eight in the morning, mulling over Paul’s words in his mind. He finds the repetitive motion calming, and he desperately needs a way to soothe his shaken nerves since, for the first time, confiding in Niall hadn’t helped. It had only served to remind him how far Niall has slipped from his grasp. 

Louis sips at the beer, carefully eyeing Zayn as he continues to scrub at the spot. When several minutes pass and Zayn still fails to acknowledge his presence, he chugs down the remainder of the pint and slams it down dangerously close to Zayn’s hand.

“Earth to Zayn,” he snarks.

Zayn looks up, pushing his hair off of his face and fixing Louis with an unimpressed stare. It’s too early in the morning to fight with his best friend. “What’s got you all hot and bothered?”

Louis grins at him, his annoyance forgotten as soon as Zayn looks at him. “Not bothered, just hot. And it’s only ten in the morning. Fuck.” He leans over to smoothly refill his glass.

“That why you’re drinking all of my beer?”

Louis grins wickedly at him, his pointy little canines gleaming in the dusty, golden light streaming in through the windows. “There’s always more where it comes from.” He pauses, and sneaks a glance at Zayn out of the corner of his eye. “Speaking of which….how are we doing on smack?”

“Fine. Should have another shipment from Lloyd in next week.”

“Good. Because the Murphy brothers just cleaned most of my shit out. I’ll probably get rid of the rest of it later today. And I’ve been doing what you said to do….keeping a low profile and all that jazz.” Louis reaches into his back pocket and slides a thick envelope across to bar to Zayn, who smoothly slips it into his own back pocket. 

"Good job, Lou.”

“I know.” He flashes his signature grin. Zayn smiles absently back at him and then returns to polishing the bar. Louis rolls his eyes; his temperament is mercurial and his moods change as swiftly as shifting winds. And so, just like that, he’s back to annoyed. “There are people you can hire to do that, you know.”

Zayn slaps his rag down onto the bar and props his hands testily on his hips. His temper, too, has been shortened by the stress of the past week. “Spit it out, Lou. What do you want?”

“To talk to you.”

“So talk.”

Louis shakes his head and jerks it towards the back of the bar. “Downstairs.”

“Fine,” Zayn sighs. Together, they clomp down the stairs and into the storeroom. Zayn perches on an overturned crate and looks expectantly up at Louis, who leans one hip casually against the doorframe. 

“I’ve got an idea.”

“You know that I don’t like your ideas. They don’t tend to end well-”

“Cut the shit and stop patronizing me, Zayn. I’m impulsive, sure, but I’m not a bloody idiot.” Zayn snorts, but refrains from saying anything. “I’ve been….thinking about what you said the other day. You were right, of course…but if we want to keep expanding, Paul is eventually going to find out. No amount of sneaky distribution is going to stop that. It’s inevitable. We could really use some more manpower, more muscle, for when that happens.”

“You want me to bring someone else on.”

“Yes.”

Zayn sighs. “If you’re going to suggest Harry-”

“Fuck no. Why in the bloody hell would I suggest _Harry _? He proved last year that he couldn’t handle the pressure.”__

Zayn cocks an eyebrow. Couldn’t handle the pressure. Louis can certainly be an insensitive bastard when he wants to be. The shorter man continues, imperiously waving his hand. “Give me some credit, mate. I was going to suggest Liam Parsons-”

Before Louis can even finish his sentence, Zayn is already shaking his head and rising to his feet. “No, absolutely not.” 

“Why not?” Louis straightens in the doorframe, stopping Zayn from pushing past him.

“I told Niall that I would trust the lad because he does, but I don’t think-”

“Exactly! Niall trusts him-”

“Niall is _fucking _him. He’s not exactly an impartial judge of the bloke's character,” Zayn snarls, his sudden anger startling them both into silence. Zayn’s not usually quick to anger, but he doesn’t want to talk about Niall after what happened between them last week.__

But Louis never can stand silence for very long. The corners of his mouth curl up and his eyes glint dangerously. “So Niall _does _top. I figured as much, since you always preferred it when I fucked you back when we were little teen-” He’s cut short when Zayn’s fist crashes into his mouth. He drops to his knees, more shocked than actually injured. Zayn follows him down immediately and wraps a hand around Louis’ bicep.__

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you.”

Louis smirks around a mouthful of blood. “Yeah, you did. But I deserved it. Couldn’t resist. Sorry.” Zayn pulls himself to his feet and reaches a down a hand to help Louis up. He’s always been more comfortable communicating with physical gestures than with words. 

“I must say that I prefer angry, jealous Zayn to moping, jealous Zayn.” Zayn doesn’t dignify Louis’ comment with a response. “But seriously.” Louis doesn’t break eye contact with his oldest friend as he lifts the shoulder of his short sleeved t shirt to wipe the blood from his mouth. “You can’t change the fact that Niall is fucking Liam…and Liam could be a good one to have on our side. Think about it.”

“I will.”

“Good.” Louis turns to go, but Zayn speaks again before he can scurry back up the stairs.

“Wait, Louis. Don’t…mention this to Niall. I want to talk to him about it first.” 

“Whatever you say, boss.” And with that, Louis is gone.

Zayn looks at the empty doorframe for a heartbeat before sitting heavily back down on the crate and cradling his knuckles, which are smeared with Louis’ blood. His best friend has left him with a lot to think about. And it’s only ten in the fucking morning. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------- 

Harry leans forward in the tub to add more hot water to his bath, sighing and tipping his head back against the side of the tub as the temperature warms around him. He hums in contentment and forces himself to sit up again in order to grab the little bottle of liquid lavender soap that balances precariously on the ledge. He pours its sweet smelling contents into the churning water, twists the handle all the way around to cease the flow of water, and then curls back into the tub. The water laps up to his chin, and his eyes slide shut. He’s just about to drift off to sleep when-

“Harry?”

“In the bathroom, love.” He can hear Louis’ footsteps trip lightly through the apartment towards him, and there’s a creak as Louis pushes open the door.

“You….you’re….in the tub.”

Harry lazily opens an eye to peek at him. “Yeah, I’m having a lazy morning since I don’t have work today.” He lets his eyelid drop back down, and breathes in the lavender-scented air. And then it hits him. He jerks violently, splashing water over the sides of the tub and onto the bathroom floor as he sits up. “Oh, shit. I didn’t…..” He trails off and looks guiltily at Louis, who, staring intently at the floor, refuses to meet his eyes. “I should have realized. The last time you saw me in the tub was last year when I….when…” He can’t say it.

“Yeah,” Louis chokes out, tears gathering in his eyes.

“Come here.” Louis uncharacteristically obeys his boyfriend and steps closer to the tub, reaching out a hand to grasp one of Harry’s tightly. “I’m alright. Okay? I was just taking a bath. I used to love baths. I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

“I know. I just….flashed back to when I found you. That was really fucking scary, Harry. Seeing you in that tub again is….really fucking scary.” 

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers, pushing his damp forehead against their joined hands. It’s unsettling to see the ever composed, always joking Louis so rattled. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay.” Harry knows that it’s not. Louis is not okay, and they’re not okay. They’ve been pretty fucking far from okay for a while now. But he won’t get anything else out of Louis today; he knows that closed off look on Louis’ face. He knows what it means when Louis throws up walls of stone. So he changes the subject. 

“You’ve got blood on your mouth.”

“Damn it.” Louis pulls away to look in the mirror. “Thought that I got it off this morning.” He flicks on the tap and bends down to splash cold water on his face.

“Is it yours or someone else’s?”

Louis looks up to meet Harry’s eyes in the mirror. “Does it matter?”

“Louis.”

“It’s mine. Courtesy of our friend Zayn.”

“Rough morning at the office?”

“You have no idea.”

Harry grins. He can handle this light hearted banter that is somehow still infused with tension. He’s Harry, and this is Louis. And this is what they do best. “You want to get in here with me?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows at Louis.

Louis smirks back. “Nah, I doubt I could fit with your gigantic giraffe legs. Don’t want to get any more water on the floor.” He leans down to press a kiss against Harry’s wilting curls. “If we ever buy a place,” he murmurs absently, “we’ll have to make sure that the bathroom has a tub big enough for the both of us. I would love to make love to you in the tub.” He brushes a hand against Harry’s cheek and straightens up, his back cracking.

Harry ignores the _love to make love to you _in favor of asking, “Would you really buy a place with me?” Louis pauses in the door at the sound of Harry’s soft, hesitant question.__

“Of course.” He turns to smile at Harry. “We already live together.”

“Yeah, but…” Harry draws his knees up, hugging them tightly to his chest. “I moved in with you. That’s different.” 

Louis’ smile widens. “I don’t think so.”

“Well…I _would _like to buy a place with you some day.”__

“Okay. It’s settled, then,” Louis states simply. He doesn’t quite understand Harry’s sudden seriousness, but he can at least acknowledge it. Once again, he begins to walk away from the bathroom and, once again, Harry’s voice stops him.

“Could this place….maybe this place wouldn’t have to be in London.”

“That’s a great idea. Maybe somewhere in the country, yeah?” He bites back the _and we could have a white picket fence and two and a half children who attend public school and maybe a big dog _on his tongue, knowing that this is not the time to make fun of his boyfriend’s wishes. Besides, living somewhere other than London with Harry seems quite nice, even if it is an impractical dream. He’s rewarded with a dimpled smile from Harry. “Enjoy your bath, Haz. Take your time. I’ve gotta call Niall, anyway.”__

\-------------------------------------- 

“So why were you so desperate to get coffee with me?”

Louis studies Niall carefully as he sips from his cardboard cup. “Can’t a bloke take a friend out for breakfast without having any ulterior motives?”

“I guess so. But you’re Louis Tomlinson. You always have an ulterior motive.”

“Zayn didn’t talk to you yesterday, did he?”

“Well, yeah, Louis, as a matter of fact he did. He was at The Station all day and I was in and out of my room. We talked about the Paul situation, but we haven’t thought of a solution yet.” Niall tilts his head delicately to the right. “Why?”

“He didn’t talk to you about Liam?”

Niall looks sharply at him. “What has been saying about Liam? I told him the other night-” Niall cuts himself off and frowns deeply, taking a swig of his coffee. Louis leans forward, his curiosity piqued.

“What did you tell him the other night?”

“Nothing.” It’s not like Niall to be so short with him.

“Did you two get in a fight or summat?”

“No.”

“But-”

“Drop it, Lou,” Niall says, his voice dark with warning. Louis sighs and leans back in his chair.

“Fine.”

“Now. What did he say to you about Liam?”

“It was my idea, really. But Zayn wanted to talk to you about it.”

“ _What _was your idea?”__

“I….may have mentioned to Zayn yesterday that I thought Liam would make a good addition to our crew.”

At that, Niall’s cup slips through his fingers. It hits the ground and bounces once before tipping over and spilling coffee all over rain stained pavement. It rolls away, unnoticed. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“He’s too good. I will not have him dragged down by us, by what we do. Getting involved with-” Niall glances at the brunch crowd laughing and sipping coffee obliviously around them before leaning across the table to hiss angrily at Louis. “with the drugs and the violence is like carrying a bloody _albatross _around your neck. I told him about what we do the other night-” At that Louis looks up, startled. “-and that’s already too much for his own good. Zayn brought me into this life, but I won’t bring someone else into it.”__

Louis scoffs. “Albatross? Someone read their assigned reading in sixth form.” He shakes his head. “He’s already in the life, Ni, as long as he’s with you. When Eleanor kidnapped you last year, she did it because she knew Zayn cared about you. Someone could use Liam against us, against you, in the exact same way.” Niall opens his mouth to argue, but Louis continues on without missing a beat. “The lad is definitely involved. Might at least let him profit from it. And who do you want most by your side? With Paul bringing the heat, we need all of the extra help we can get.”

“What if he doesn’t want in?”

“The man works in a coffee shop. I’m sure he won’t mind the extra income.”

“You say that like all we’re talking about is the money.”

Louis smiles gently at Niall, his pointy little canines hidden beneath his lips. “I wouldn’t have brought this up if I didn’t think it was the right thing to do. Take some time to think about it.”

Niall looks down at his hands, running one thumb back and forth across his knuckles. Louis gives him a moment, and when it becomes clear that Niall doesn’t intend to answer him, the shorter man stands up, reaches into his wallet, and throws a few bills onto the table. “Breakfast is on me.” He steps closer to Niall and pats him brusquely on the shoulder. “Get yourself another coffee. You seem to have spilled yours.”


	16. The Beginning of the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: mentions of drugs.  
> Enjoy! Feed me with comments!  
> Also, I just uploaded the first two chapters of a Ziall prequel to this fic called "Beneath Our Castles" at http://archiveofourown.org/works/1293265.

“Liam! That’s fantastic! I knew that they would trust you eventually. I am so proud of you, baby.”

“Thanks, Dani,” Liam mutters as he lifts up a t shirt from his basket of clean laundry, shaking it out and folding it carefully before placing it down on his bed.

“Seriously, Li. Fantastic work. We’re on the home stretch here. You should be able to come home soon!”

Liam swallows hard. “Yeah, soon.” _Fuck _.__

“Now all we have to do is gather enough information about their operation to put them all behind bars for a long time.”

“Yeah,” Liam breathes out shakily and sits down heavily on the bed next to his stack of crisply folded t shirts, not caring that his movement tip it over. _Behind bars _. _He is going to put Niall behind bars _.____

“Keep your eyes open and look for patterns, patterns of distribution. How frequently is the heroin coming in? Who is it going to? Are there middle men? How _much _heroin is coming in?”__

“Dani, _Dani _.” Liam cuts across Danielle’s rapid fire stream of instructions. “I _know _. I know what to look for. We went over this in my training, remember?”____

Danielle heaves out a sigh and the phone line crackles with static. “Yeah, I remember. Sorry. I’m just…I’m worried. And excited. But mostly worried. I worry about you _all _the time, Li.”__

“I’m fine, Dani.”

“I know you’re fine, Li. But it’s been almost _five _months. That’s a hell of a long time for _anyone _to be undercover, let alone an officer who was never formally trained as a undercover operative.”____

Liam bristles a bit at that. “I think I’m doing pretty damn well considering how little training I received.”

“Of course! Of course. I just meant….you’re new to this. It’s hard to deal with, psychologically.”

Liam scrubs the back of his hand across his eyes. If only Dani knew _how _hard this is for him. If only she knew about Niall….but she can’t. She’s his superior officer… _and _his girlfriend. Everything is _so fucked _. “Yeah, it is.”______

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” Because he _does _. He _loves _Niall, but damn if he doesn’t miss the simplicity of his old life with Danielle.____

Dani sighs again. “Hang in there, Liam. I’m going to discuss this new development with Kellen and Cowell, and we’ll get back to you soon.” She pauses, hesitates, and then, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” But he's not so sure anymore.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Three weeks later _.__

When Liam pushes abruptly through the doors of The Station early on Friday evening to meet Niall for their date, the buzz of conversation inside sputters out and then dies. Niall, Louis, and Zayn look up at him from where they’re hunched together over the bar. There’s a tense moment where they all stand silently (Liam’s not sure where the sudden tension’s come from, but it’s so palpable that it feels as if he could reach out and touch it) but then Zayn juts his chin at Niall, who scurries across the dusty room to Liam’s side. _He’s taking orders _. A muscle clenches and then unclenches in Liam’s jaw.__

“Hey, Li. Do you wanna come up to my room for a mo’ before we head out?”

Liam plasters a smile on his face. “Yeah, sure.” Niall grabs his hand and tows him back behind the bar and up the stairs, closing the door to his bedroom behind them. He awkwardly shuffles over to his narrow bed, perches on the side, and pulls Liam down next to him.

“So….uh….. _shit _….I’m not good with this shit.”__

Liam rests a comforting hand on Niall’s knee. “’s alright.” They wait in silence for a few seconds, and then Niall takes a slow breath in. He sets his jaw and appears to steel himself.

“Okay…here goes. I’ve been…..grappling…with this for like three weeks now….ever since I told you about the heroin. I don’t quite know how I feel about it yet…but I thought I would ask you. So.” Niall pauses again and agitatedly drags his hand through his hair before dropping it in favor of drumming his fingers against the bed. “Would you….what if we brought you in?”

“In?” Liam knows what Niall is asking of him, but he can’t believe that it’s come to this so quickly after Niall first told him about the heroin. There’s a faint roaring sound in his ears, the rush of his blood thrumming in his veins. _No no no no no no _. If they bring him onboard their operation, it’s only a matter of time before he’ll inevitably have to turn them over to Officer Kellen and SOCA, just like he and Dani discussed a few weeks ago. He’ll have to turn _Niall _in. That’s been the point of his undercover mission along; he’s been deceiving them in order to bring them down. But suddenly the reality of the situation is staring him in the face and all Liam wants to do is grab Niall and _run _. Run far, far away from London.______

“Yeah as in…into the business.” Liam is brought back down to the present moment by Niall’s voice. “The lads and I have been discussing this for a while now…” Liam tenses at the mention of Zayn and Louis, involuntarily digging his fingers into Niall’s kneecap. Niall winces, but continues to talk. “And at first I wasn’t comfortable with it _at all _. I….I love you and I want to protect you, and getting you involved with this shit is the opposite of that. But….Lou pointed out that you already _are _involved, so. I thought I would let you decide, since you’re a grown man and all.”____

“I…uhh…I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to decide now,” Niall interjects quickly.

Liam desperately thinks back to his training. “Ah…..no, actually. Yes. I think my answer is yes. I love you, too. I want to be a part of your life, and this is a really important to you.” Niall grimaces at that, and Liam backpedals. “Not like…it’s not important to who you _are _. But it _is important _.” Liam again forces himself to smile. “And I can _barely _pay my rent. A little extra money coming in would be great.”______

“But….it’s not just the money, Liam,” Niall says, concern evident in his big, blue eyes. “This will mark you for _life _. If we were to get arrested or…worse…” He trails off, not wanting to complete his thought.__

“Yeah, well….” Liam leans in close to his boyfriend, lightly knocking his forehead against the blonde’s. “I kinda want _this _,” he gestures between them with his free hand. “For life.”__

Niall frowns slightly, the skin between his eyes creasing. “Don’t say that to me unless you mean it, Liam Parsons.”

“I mean it,” Liam murmurs before leaning forward to gently kiss him.

“We should,” Niall says, and then pauses to kiss him again. “We should tell the boys.”

Liam grins against Niall’s lips. “Gimme a mo’,” he says, mimicking Niall’s favorite expression, before yanking the blonde closer against him.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Downstairs, Zayn and Niall sit at one of the little tables in the front of The Station, a bottle of vodka and four shot glasses between them.

“Whaddya think he’s gonna say?” asks Louis. He pours a shot of clear liquor and quickly slings it back, grimacing only slightly at the taste.

Zayn shrugs, reaching for the bottle and pouring his own shot. “Dunno. I _do _know that I need another bloody shot of vodka.” Louis waits until Zayn swallows, and then slaps him gently on the back.__

“It’s gonna be alright, you know.”

Zayn snorts. “Mate, the last time I heard you say that you had just set fire to a fucking building. It’s not exactly reassuring, coming from you.”

Louis smiles, spreading his hands out in front of him. “And everything was fine then, wasn’t it? Just like it will be now.”

Zayn hums noncommittally. “We’ll see.”

Louis toasts him with another shot of vodka. “We will.” The two men lapse into a comfortable silence that’s only broken when they hear footsteps on the back stair case. Zayn straightens in his seat as Louis shoots him a meaningful look. Niall and Liam emerge from behind the bar with their hands clasped close together, and Zayn sends up silent thanks that he’s got a couple of shots in him.

Niall twists to grin proudly at his boyfriend. “Liam’s decided to join us.”

Louis shoots Zayn a careful look before plastering his trademark mischievous grin onto his face and turning to face Liam. “Excellent!” he crows. “Get over here, laddie!” He jumps up out of his chair to envelop the taller man in a hug. “I’m not a hugger. So you’re welcome. Here, let’s seal the deal with a celebratory shot.” Zayn bobs his head in agreement, screwing the lid quickly off of the bottle in order to fill up the four shot glasses. Niall sits down at the table with his two friends, dragging Liam with him.

“To us! And to our boy Liam officially becoming one of us!” toasts Louis, lifting his shot glass towards Liam. He downs the shot, and the other four follow. Liam pulls a face at the burn of alcohol in his throat, and Niall rubs his back soothingly.

“So.” Zayn says suddenly, so loudly that Liam jumps in his seat. “Terms.”

Liam looks between Louis and Niall in confusion. Louis simply looks back at him, his face unreadable, but Niall nods reassuringly at him. “Um….yes?”

“We increase the price of the heroin that we traffic in by twenty five percent, which means that we have a pretty big profit margin. And because we have such a small operation, we make a _lot _of money. Because you’ve joined our operation, we’re going to have to change how we divide up the profits. I get forty percent, Louis gets thirty percent, and Niall gets twenty five percent. You’ll get five percent.” Niall shoots Zayn a pointed look, but Zayn holds up a palm and continues to speak before he can interrupt. “We’ll consider this a trial period. If you do well, you’ll have the opportunity to increase your share of the profits to ten and then possibly fifteen percent.” This seems to satisfy Niall, who settles back into his chair.__

Liam straightens his spine and tries to look confident. “Great. That sounds great.” Zayn nods in approval, extending a hand across the table to firmly shake Liam’s.

“Good. Welcome aboard, partner.”  


Louis slaps Liam on his back and lets out a whoop. “Let’s drink to seal the deal.” And with that, he pours another round of shots.

And Liam thinks to himself that this is almost too easy.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

After they drink and chat for about forty five minutes, the bartenders begin to arrive for their shifts. Liam recognizes Phillip, the man who had been working behind the bar that first night he came to The Station, and hides a smirk behind his hand. Zayn goes to help set up the bar, and Louis follows with the bottle of vodka and used shot glasses. Niall pulls Liam in for a sloppy kiss as soon as they walk away, and then leans back slightly so he can beam at Liam. Liam waits for him to say something, but, when it becomes apparent that he has nothing to say, leans forward to press another brief kiss against Niall’s lips.

“Wanna go stuff our faces with tacos?” Liam asks.

Niall moans. “You don't know what it does to me when you talk dirty to me like that.”

Liam laughs and reaches across to ruffle his hair. “You’re a bloody weirdo.”

“Yeah, you love it.”

“I do.” Liam kisses Niall again, but this time Louis sees them.

“Oi! Love birds! Get the hell out of here! Your kind isn’t welcome here.”

“Shut the hell up, Lou,” Niall calls back, laughter in his voice. “I know for a fact that you and Harry have fucked in the booths.”

“That curly haired bastard needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut.”

Niall ignores Louis’ retort in favor of kissing Liam one more time before bouncing up onto his feet. “C’mon Liam, me heart. Let’s go get some grub.” He pulls Liam up and tows him out of the front door of The Station, waving a hand carelessly in the general direction of Zayn and Louis. See you lads later.”

They wander down the street away from The Station and towards Niall’s favorite greasy Mexican joint, arm in arm and hips bumping together. Liam feels so full; full of vodka, full of nerves at the prospect of finally getting into the business, and, most of all, full of love for this wonderful, beautiful boy by his side.

Liam opens the door to the restaurant with a flourish and an exaggerated bow, which predictably sets Niall off on a cackling spree. Liam loves that he laughs so easily. They find a seat by the window, watching the people pass by outside. Liam orders them each the fish tacos, Niall’s favorite, and an iced bucket full of six Dos Equis bottles, which prompts Niall to launch himself across the narrow table and feverishly kiss him until their waiter coughs awkwardly.

Their food arrives quickly, and Liam waits until Niall’s inhaled his food to speak to him. “So….uhhhh….I know that today was big, and maybe this isn’t the best time to ask this considering I just joined you lads….and we haven’t been dating that long…..but….”

Niall stops chewing (which is how Liam knows that he’s _really _paying attention) and his jaw falls dramatically open, a piece of fish falling from it. Liam cringes.__

“Ugh, Niall that’s disgusting.”

Niall tries to respond, but then chokes on the food still left in his mouth. He doubles over the table, coughing and wheezing. “Jesus!” Liam leaps to his feet and pounds Niall on the back until he coughs up a hunk of fish. “You alright? Here, drink this.” He shoves a glass of water at Niall, who sips at it before coughing lightly.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m fine,” Niall rasps. He takes another snip of water.

“What the hell was that for?”

“Nothing.” Niall doesn’t meet Liam’s eyes, instead reaching for a second beer and draining half of it in one long pull. Liam can tell that Niall has something to say, so he waits patiently. “It’s just…..” Niall nervously twists the neck of the beer bottle between his fingers. “You….surprised me.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“Were you gonna….were you gonna ask me to marry you?”

“ _What _? Was I going to….? _No _, I wasn’t going to ask you to marry me! Jesus Christ, Niall. We’ve only been dating for a month!____

Niall blushes furiously, and it’s been a long time since Liam’s seen him this embarrassed. “Oh. Well. Yeah. It’s….only been a month. But I’ve been in love with you for five fucking months.”

“Me too. You know that.” At that Niall grins and twines his fingers with Liam’s on top of the table.

“But I’m still glad to hear it.” Niall takes another swing of the Dos Equis. “For the record…. _if _you _were _to ask me to marry you, this would be a good way to do it. You know….with a bucket of beers and fish tacos at my favorite restaurant. Just so you know."____

Liam winks at him and takes a sip of his own beer. “Duly noted.”

The silence between them stretches out comfortably between them, and then Niall asks, “So…what _were _you going to ask me?”__

“I was going to ask if you want to move in with me.” Niall’s eyes bug out comically, and Liam hastens to qualify his question. “Like I said, I know we haven’t been dating that long….but you’re over at my flat almost every night anyway. And it must suck living above the bar, y’know, because it’s loud late into the night and you’re always so close to Zayn and-”

“Yes.”

“-that means that you’re _always _working but-wait, what?”__

“Yes.” Niall repeats calmly.

“Yes?”

“Yes, you dolt.”

“Okay. Okay!” And then it’s Liam’s turn to lean across the table and kiss Niall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter had some super sappy Niam. My fave. I'll have the next chapter up this week, and it will be more exciting. Hope you liked it!


	17. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now shit starts to get real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Mentions of drugs and violence. Sexist language.

_Two weeks later _.__

“I called this meeting to talk strategy,” Zayn says, tapping one of his large, silver rings on the wooden bar to get their attention. It’s early evening again, and Zayn, Louis, Niall, and Liam have all gathered at The Station before the bartenders arrive for their shifts. Louis looks up from his box of Chinese takeout noodles, chewing loudly.

“So talk Zaynie boy. No one’s stopping you.”

Zayn, predictably, fails to rise to the bait. “We’ve barely managed to move any product these past two weeks since we’ve had to lay low. Liam’s the only one who won’t draw Paul’s attention to us, and he can’t sell enough shit on his own to keep our enterprise profitable. No offense, Liam.” He nods in Liam’s direction, and Liam nods back briefly. “What we’ve been doing for the past few weeks is not a long term solution.”

“Zayn, you know we love the sound of your voice, but if you could please get to the point,” Louis pipes up again.

Zayn shoots him a glare before continuing to speak. “We can’t sell smack in Paul’s territory. Which leaves us only Calder’s territory since he took out that big Turkish gang a couple of months ago-”

“No, absolutely not.” Liam looks over at Niall, surprised by his outburst. His boyfriend’s complexion is ashen, and his fists are balled up. Liam reaches over to gently grasp his wrist, his brow creased in confusion and concern.

“Zayn, even I think that’s absolutely mental,” adds Louis. “Eleanor will cut our balls off as soon as we stick a _toe _into her territory. You know how she is. And Niall-”__

“Shut up,” hiss Niall.

“Exactly,” Zayn quickly interjects before they can say anything else. Liam looks between the three of them, more confused than ever. There’s something that he’s missing here. He’s never even heard of this Eleanor woman.

“The fact that Paul and Calder are now in control of almost the entire city and are stronger than ever leaves means that we have little room to distribute our own shit,” Zayn continues. Louis nods in agreement, slurping at his noodles. “It certainly means that we have no room to grow. And you all know that it is my intention to expand our business until we eclipse both Paul and Calder. So, how do we do that now that Paul’s onto us?” He pauses for a moment, but the others, at a complete loss, say nothing. “ _We play them off of each other _,” Zayn says in a low, excited voice.__

Louis sits up straight in his chair, his noodles abruptly forgotten. “Zayn, that’s bloody brilliant. I could kiss you!” He moves as if to do so, but then freezes. “Wait….how?”

“If Paul knows that Louis is dealing again, I’m sure that Calder knows as well,” Zayn says, and Niall and Louis both nod.

“She’s a smart one,” Louis mutters to himself. Niall’s fists still haven’t unclenched, and Liam rubs at his forearm reassuringly, shooting him another worried look.

“So we let them each think that the other is supplying Louis with product, and that he’s dealing it in their respective territories,” Zayn smugly pronounces.

_Damn _, thinks Liam. _He’s a wily one _. _It’s no wonder that lads over at SOCA have had their eye on him for a while _.______

“And start another turf war!” exclaims Louis. He finally jumps out of his chair and high fives Zayn.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Niall pipes up. “I hate to shit all over this plan, but it’s not gonna work.” Zayn frowns, and Louis sits back down. “If Paul didn’t go to war with Eleanor last year after she _kidnapped _me, he’s not gonna do it just because he thinks Eleanor is dealing to Louis.” Niall ignores the startled jolt that he feels run through Liam’s body in favor of continuing. “At most, he might decide to kill Louis to get rid of the problem. But that’s it.”__

“I agree,” Zayn calmly says.

“Wait, what?” squawks Louis. “I’m all for making sacrifices for the sake of our business, Zayn, but I’m not just gonna put myself in Paul’s line of fire if you think he’s gonna kill me. _Jesus _.”__

“He’s not going to kill you, because we’re going to make him think that the problem is bigger than just you,” Zayn argues.

Liam cocks his head to the side. What the fuck does the man have up his sleeve?

“We’re going to let them each think that the other is stocking up on automatic weapons.”

“What?” Niall and Louis shout in unison. Liam again jumps in surprise.

“And then, we’re going to make a shit ton of money when we supply them with those weapons,” Zayn says, grinning in triumph. “They’ll have no choice but to go to war if they think that the other is stockpiling weapons. So they will, and, since they’ll both be heavily armed, they’ll destroy each other, leaving a vacuum of power in London. And who’s gonna fill that vacuum? Us.”

There’s silence and then Louis weakly begins to speak. “Zayn….that’s…..that’s….”

“Genius.” Three heads whip around to look at Liam, who had refrained from taking part in the discussion until now. “It’s _genius _. You’re a bloody genius.” He’s so shocked that he can’t think of anything else to say. _Dani and Kellen are not going to fucking believe this _.____

All four men are silent for a beat, and then Niall clears his throat and sits up, pulling his wrist away from Liam’s grip with the motion. “It is genius. How are you planning on trafficking in the guns?”

“Lloyd.”

“He _is _supplying us with heroin, but why would he help bring Paul down? They’ve got a great working relationship-”__

“Paul fucked his wife years ago." Zayn interrupts Niall, a wicked smirk on his face. “I sought out Lloyd in the first place not only because he’s reliable, but because the man holds a grudge. He’s supplied Paul for so long because it makes him money, but I’m offering him the opportunity to make a shit ton of money from the guns. Not to mention that, if my plan works, he’ll be the only trafficker moving smack to London. And that’s _huge _.”__

“Wait…in the _first _place?” asks Louis, his voice incredulous. “This has been your plan the _whole _time? To get Eleanor and Paul to destroy each other?”____

Zayn shrugs his shoulders, a fluid and leonine movement. “Yeah. Paul’s suspicions just sped up my plan.”

“ _Holy fucking shit _,” Louis whispers.__

Zayn lets the moment sinks in; he revels in their surprise and admiration. Then, finally, he speaks. “So….are you boys in?”

Niall stands up and closes the distance between them in two quick strides. He clasps his ex-lover on the shoulder and ducks his head slightly, looking Zayn directly in the eyes. “I'm always in, Zayn.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Guns? Are you having me on?”

“No!” Liam hisses into the payphone cradled against his face, nervously glancing at the people walking past the glass booth. He had called Dani from the payphone as soon as he’d left Niall behind for his bartending shift at The Station, unable to wait until he got home to his burn phone to tell her about Zayn’s plan. “And not just guns, Dani. Fucking automatic weapons. And we’re not talking about a couple of ‘em. Malik wants to Paul and this Eleanor chick to destroy each other and all of their foot soldiers. Who is she, anyway?”

“We don’t know.”

“What?”

“We don’t know.”

“What do you mean we don’t know?” Liam slaps an open palm against the dirty panes of glass in frustration. “From the sounds of it, she’s a major player! According to Malik, she controls every part of London not under Paul Higgins’.”

“We know that Christopher Calder was one of Higgins’ main rivals. A ruthless man. Particularly fond of maiming those of his followers who failed him. He passed away three years ago, and we thought that his gang had collapsed.”

“Could this woman be a lover of his? Or a child?”

“He did have a daughter, but we never learned her name. He was fiercely protective of he and her mother, and managed to keep their identities secret. It’s a wonder we even found out about them at all. In any case, she would only be in her early twenties now. It’s hardly unlikely that such a young woman-”

“Malik’s pretty bloody young, too.”

“You’re right. It’s possible. In any case, we need to learn more about her as soon as possible. I’ll have Kellen put some SOCA men on it and we’ll let you know what we find out.” Liam nods, even though Danielle can’t see him. “Liam, this is going to force our hand. We’re going to have to bring down Malik and his cronies much quicker than we anticipated.”

Liam feels as if his heart is going to leap out of his chest. “Quicker?” he manages to croak out.

“Yes! We’ll need to intercept those weapons before Malik has a chance to distribute them. We can’t let him arm all of London’s thugs to the teeth!”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” Liam feels as if it’s someone else speaking. Is he really saying these words?

“Do you know what his timeline is for this?”

“No, no idea. But it’s gonna be soon. He’s frustrated that he can’t sell any heroin due to the pressure that Paul’s placed on him.”

“Alright. Keep us posted. God, this is fucking fantastic. These bastards are gonna get a lot more time for trafficking weapons than they would for heroin That's a life sentence!.”

Liam feels as if someone’s encased his stomach in ice. “Yeah.”

“I am so fucking proud of you. Think of how many lives you’re going to save!” But Liam can only think about the life that he’s going to put behind bars. Niall’s life.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

“What the fuck are you doing in my bar, Tomlinson?”

“Eleanor, sweetheart!” Louis turns at the sound of the voice, spinning on his barstool to speak to the slim, beautiful brunette standing behind him. “You look gorgeous as ever. Is that a Prada bag? Oh….and don’t tell me….the coat is….Topshop, right? That mix of high-low fashion is _so _chic. And you’ve always been _so _good at it.”____

“Cut the shit, Louis. I asked you what you were doing in my bar.”

“Oh, are you the owner of this fine establishment?”

The woman’s eye liner rimmed eyes narrow dangerously, and she slips onto the barstool next to Louis. “Don’t play with me, boy. You know that this is my territory. I am well within my rights to have you yanked out of the bar and killed, especially after you set my bloody warehouse on fire last. But…” Eleanor pauses, tapping one impeccably manicured fingernail against her lips. “I’ve always had a soft spot for lunatics.” She leans in closer, sneering into Louis’ face. “Leave now. The next time I catch you selling heroin in my territory, I will kill you. Even if you _did _make me come three times the last time we had sex.”__

Louis mockingly places a hand over his heart and leans back on his barstool, a smirk on his face. “Darling, you remember!” Eleanor looks as if she’s about to respond, but Louis continues to speak before she gets the chance. “I appreciate the threat. You are _very _scary,” he says in a patronizing tone. Eleanor’s eyes flash in fury. “But I think that I’ll stay right here.” His smirk widens. “After all, it’s not gonna be your territory for much longer.”__

At that, a shadow of concern flickers briefly across Eleanor’s face. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means that dealing inside your territory wasn’t exactly my idea, love.”

“Higgins.”

“Yep,” Louis says with a pop of his lips.

“Why in the bloody hell would Paul Higgins use _you _, of all people, to threaten me? He’s smarter than that.”__

Louis smirks again and then takes a gulp from his drink. “He is.” Eleanor glares at him when he fails to elaborate on his statement, so Louis sighs and sips at his drink again. “I’m only a small part of his plan, love. I’m insignificant.”

“His plan is larger than moving his dealers into my territory?” Eleanor asks suspiciously.

“He’s moving things beside dealers. Besides drugs,” Louis says, signaling the bartender for another vodka soda as he does so.

Eleanor remains silent, similarly signaling the bartender. The man finally walks over to them, handing them identical glasses of bubbling liquid. Louis reaches a hand into his wallet, but the bartender walks away before he can pay him. “Oi, mate!” Louis shouts after him. Eleanor places a hand lightly on his forearm. “I don’t pay for drinks in my territory. Neither do you.” Louis inclines his head towards her and raises his glass in a toast, before downing it with one long pull. Eleanor follows suit.

“So,” she says, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. Louis swivels on his barstool, tipping his entire body towards her. “What is he moving?”

“Don’t make me say it, El. You know what I meant.”

“Fine.” Eleanor absently traces a finger around the rim of her glass, and then looks up to meet Louis’ eyes. “Guns. He’s going to try to take me down forcibly.”

Louis shrugs. “I’m not gonna say yes. But I’m also not gonna say no.”

Eleanor’s eyes narrow much like they had when she had first approached Louis. “Why are you telling me this, Louis? What do you have to gain from betraying your boss? Why would you come to me after I kidnapped your little Irish friend last year?”

Louis frowns. “What happened last year….was unfortunate. You took Niall to prove a point….he was just caught in the middle of your fight with Paul.”

“That’s quite big of you to say that.”

“Yeah, well……I also burned down your headquarters. In my mind, we’re even.”

Eleanor nods slowly. “I suppose you could think of it that way. But that’s not really an answer, is it?”

Louis swallows, a nervous gulp. So it’s come to this, he thinks. “I uhhh…I fancy you.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then, to Louis’ surprise, Eleanor throws her head back and laughs throatily. Louis glances anxiously about the bar, conscious of the stares that they’re attracting from the other patrons. Eleanor signals the bartender again, still laughing. When their round of drinks arrive, she manages to catch her breath before she gulps down the vodka soda. Louis sips at his a bit more slowly, his wide eyes trained on Eleanor.

Eleanor finishes her drink and daintily places the empty drink down on the surface of the bar. “Oh, Louis. That _is _a good one. I have _no _idea why you would come in here to tell me that Higgins is coming for me and then tell me that….it’s like a bloody soap.”____

_Fuck, she didn’t buy it _. Louis takes another drink from his glass, his throat suddenly dry. _Come on Tommo, you can do this _. _You have to do this _. “I’m not messing with you, El,” he manages to squeak.______

Eleanor rolls her eyes at him. “I know that you’re living with that basket case. I’m not an idiot.”

“I’m living with Harry because I’m afraid of what he would do if we broke up. I don’t actually like him. I _never _did. He’s just….” Louis pauses, and swallows hard. Sorry, Harold. “He’s just a junkie. You….you’re more like me. You’re smart and beautiful and twisted….”__

Eleanor tilts her head to the side as she carefully considers him. “We _are _two birds of a feather, aren’t we?” Louis nods vigorously. “Alright, then. Thank you for coming to me with this. Now finish your drink.” Eleanor places her hand on his forearm again, her wicked grin so similar to Louis’ that he can’t help but grin back. “And then let’s get out of here. I want to see if we can change your record to four times in one night.”__

_Got her _. Louis smirks triumphantly. “Sounds like a plan.”__

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Niall yanks the hood of his jacket up against the damp cold and weaves his way through the traffic of the port, dodging dockworkers and forklifts alike. He finally catches sight of the man he’s looking for leaning against a shipping container and hustles towards him, deftly sidestepping puddles.

“O’Toole,” he calls out. The man turns around at the sound of his name and then blanches when he catches sight of Niall, leaning to the side to peer around him. “It’s just me,” Niall reassures him. “Louis isn’t here.”

“He better not be,” the man snarls. “He shot me in the kneecap because I was fucking his boy. He’s bloody insane.”

Niall winces sympathetically. “Yeah, he is. How’s the knee, speaking of? I’ve got a bum knee meself-”

“What do you want, Horan?”

“What?”

Mickey O’Toole frowns at him. “You didn’t come all the way down to the docks just to chat me up, Horan. I know you hate me. I’ve got the scar to prove it.” He points to the small, but deep, gash below his right eye, and Niall winces. That bar fight hadn’t been his finest moment, but O’Toole had provoked him. “Get to the point. My break only lasts another fifteen minutes.” Mickey takes a pack of cigarettes out of one of his coat pockets and lights up without offering one to Niall. “So spit it out,” he says, exhaling a cloud of noxious smoke.

“Right. This actually is about Louis….and Zayn.”

“Malik.” Mickey’s not asking a question. He just wants to see Niall squirm.

Niall bites back the retort on the tip of his tongue ( _Yeah, you know many other Zayns _?). “Yeah. They’re….working for Calder now.”__

Mickey promptly drops his cigarette, and Niall has to stop himself from smirking in satisfaction. “What?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you messing with me, Horan?”

“No!”

“Why the fuck would they do that?” Mickey looks incredulously at Niall. “The bitch kidnapped you last year, and now your boyfriend and your best friend are working for her?”

“Zayn’s not my boyfriend.” Niall scuffs his sneaker against the pavement. “Zayn…broke up with me when she kidnapped me. That was when I needed him the most, and he failed me.” It’s easy to tell Mickey this, because it’s the truth. “And Louis was never really my friend. Like you said, he’s insane.”

Mickey lets out a low whistle, but doesn’t say anything, so Niall continues. “So I’m pissed, yeah?” Mickey bobs his head in understanding. “He dumps me, and then he goes to work for that cunt. You know she almost killed me, right?” Mickey nods again, and Niall barrels ahead, gathering steam. “So I’m pissed. I’m really fucking pissed. I want Paul to know that Zayn and Louis are dealing Eleanor’s product in his territory. I want those bastards to suffer.”

Mickey finally realizes that he’s dropped his cigarette, curses, and digs another one out of his pack. This time, he offers one to Niall. Niall waves it off. He’s already so nervous; he doesn’t need nicotine coursing through his bloodstream right now. “Paul already knows. He went to shake down Malik the other week. But I’ll tell him what you told me.”

Niall internally smiles, but keeps his face steely. That’s it, he thinks. I’ve got him. Now it’s time to drop the bomb. “There’s more, Mickey.”

“What?”

“Eleanor’s not just moving drugs in Paul’s territory. She’s trafficking in guns.”

“What?”

“I swear to God. I heard Zayn and Louis talking about it the other day when I was working at The Station. Automatic weapons.”

“Niall, if you’re making this shit up-”

“Why would I?” Niall confidently interrupts him. “Like I said, I want the bastards to suffer. Especially Zayn. You’ll let Paul know, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Mickey says uncertainly. Niall claps him on the shoulder.

“Great. Thanks, mate. I owe you one.” Niall turns to leave. “I’ll leave you to it. Your breaks gotta be almost over.”

“Wait, Niall!” Mickey calls after him. “If….if Paul wanted to stock up as well….discretely….just in case Calder tries to start shit……you know. So we can defend our territory…”

_Yes _. “Oh. Yeah.” Niall jogs back towards Mickey and fishes a pen out of his pocket. He grabs Mickey’s hand and writes a number down on it in black ink. "This is my mate Liam’s number. He’s new to London-just moved here from Wolverhampton-but he’s got some good black market contacts. Hit him up if Paul wants to….purchase anything. I’m sure he’ll get him a better deal than anyone else Paul works with. He specializes in weapons.”__

“I’ll pass his number along. Thanks for all of this information.”

“Cheers, mate. Oh, and Mickey?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep this on the down low.”

“Of course.” Mickey grins evilly. “Can’t wait to knock that prick Tomlinson down a peg or two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! I love hearing from all of you. I've had a lot of people rooting for Ziall, sooooo if you are one of those make sure to check out the Ziall prequel to this fic. It's part 2 of this series.


	18. It's Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Drug use.
> 
> Sorry in advance for the sads. Hope you like it!

“Hey hon’. How was work today? Did they finally play one of your playlists?” Louis bustles into his flat, carrying shopping bags full of ingredients for dinner. He pauses to drop a kiss onto the top of Harry’s head, who’s stretched out on the couch. “You look exhausted, babe.” Louis places the shopping bags on the counter and then turns to face his boyfriend when he fails to answer him. “Harry? You okay?”

Harry mumbles something, but doesn’t look up at Louis.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Where were you last night?” _Shit _. Louis flinches slightly, but schools his face into a smile when Harry finally looks up at him with his big, sad eyes.__

“Oh, you know. Out doing shit for Zayn. I thought that you didn’t want to know what we’re up to with the heroin?” Louis had learned a long time ago that the best way to manipulate Harry is to flip the questions back onto him. Harry hates conflict, so he usually backs off whenever Louis does that. This time, however, Harry narrows his eyes and pushes his floppy hair away from his face with one shaking hand.

“Bullshit. I dropped by The Station last night when I got off of work, and everyone was there but you.”

Louis begins to organize the ingredients that he picked up, glad to have something to do with his hands. “Yeah, like I said. I was out doing shit for Zayn. Zayn wasn’t with me. I’m like his lackey, remember?”

Harry unfolds from the couch and stands up, fists clenched as he glares towards Louis. “All night? You never came home.”

Louis frowns at a jar of pasta sauce as he picks it up, bringing it closer to his face so that he can read the label in an attempt to distract himself. “Yep.”

“Louis. Look at me. _Look at me _,” Harry begs. Louis reluctantly looks away from the jar. “Don’t fucking lie to me. I know when you’re lying to me. Don’t I deserve the truth?”__

At that, Louis’ quick temper flares. He slams the pasta sauce back down on the counter. “Fine, Harold,” he snaps. “You really wanna know?”

Harry glares balefully back at Louis, waiting him out.

“I slept with Eleanor. Again.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “Eleanor Calder?” Surprisingly, it comes out as a whisper rather than a shout.

Louis winces. “Yes.”

“ _Get out _.” A single, quiet, furious pronouncement.__

“Harry, let me explain-”

“No. Get. Out.”

“There’s a reason-”

“Oh, _is there _? There’s a _reason _that you slept with a crazy bitch who _kidnapped _Niall and _threatened _to kill him? Please, tell me your reason. By all means. Go ahead.”________

Louis makes as if to reach towards Harry, but pulls back when his boyfriend flinches. “Haz, I am so, so sorry. But I had to. We’re trying to make Eleanor believe that Paul’s moving in on her territory so that she’ll go to war with Paul, and then we can take over both of their territories while their weakened. It’s a complicated plan but-”

“Take over their territories? Jesus, Lou, I’m still not okay with you being back in the business-”

“I know.”

Harry shakes his head as if to clear water from his ears, and holds a palm up towards Louis. “But….where is it in this plan that you have to sleep with Eleanor Calder?” His eyes glint again dangerously.

Louis clutches onto the counter, his knuckles turning white. “I had to Haz. I had to make her trust me-”

“No.” Harry shakes his head vigorously. “Even if that was part of this scheme you and Zayn have cooked up….no. It’s still not okay. I want you out.” He stomps over to the door and yanks it open. The two men stand silent, frozen, and then Louis speaks up.

“Harry, it’s my flat.” As soon as he’s said it, Louis knows that he’s fucked up. Angry tears fill Harry’s eyes.

“Yeah,” he spits out, closing the door with a slam. “ _Your _flat. Well then. I’ll just move out of the flat that we’ve been sharing for the last _three years _because you cheated on me, and because, technically, _I _moved in with _you _. _God _, and after you said you would _buy _a palce with me....”____________

And Louis knows, he _knows _, that he shouldn’t shout at Harry right now. Not while he’s so upset. But he does anyway. “Fuck you, Styles. You cheated on me with Mickey O’Toole six months ago-”__

“That doesn’t give you a free pass!” screams Harry, his voice raw with desperation.

Louis points an accusatory finger at him. “We cheat on each other. That’s what we do. That’s what we’ve been doing for the past three years. But I always come back to you.” To Louis’ surprise and anger, his own eyes fill with tears to match Harry’s. “I love you, Haz,” he manages to choke out.

Harry shakes his head. “That’s bullshit, Louis, and you know it,” he says softly. “If we really loved each other, we wouldn’t do this to each other. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to realize that.” He shakes his head again and moves into the bedroom, where he pulls a duffel bag down from the closet.

Louis follows him. “No, Harry, stop. I _do _love you. You can’t leave me because I slept with Eleanor again. When I found out that you were sleeping with O’Toole, what did I do? I helped get you clean again! I stayed up with you for two days to make sure that didn’t choke on your own vomit and _die _.”____

Harry drops the duffel bag on their bed and whirls to face Louis. “And that’s it, isn’t it?” he shouts, raising his voice again. “That’s it. It always comes back to this. Every single time that we fight. I told you this when I found out that you were dealing again, and I will tell you again for the last time. You’re not my fucking hero, and I’m not going to thank you. I'm done with this shit.” He steps past Louis to yank a couple of items of clothing into the duffel bag and then continues into the bathroom to grab his toiletry kit. He throws the kit violently into the duffel bag and turns towards Louis, who is standing motionless in the doorway.

“Get out of the way,” Harry snarls in a low, dangerous tone. For once, Louis doesn’t have a quick retort. He simply steps to the side, allowing Harry to roughly brush past him. The sound of their front door opening is the only thing that jolts him out of his shock.

“No, Harry, don’t leave me-”

“It’s too late, Louis.” The look on Harry’s face is curiously blank. “Don’t try to contact me.” And with that, he’s gone.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you hear that?” Liam murmurs as he shifts closer to Niall, slinging an arm across his boyfriend’s shoulders.

“No,” mumbles Niall, snuffling a bit against the pillow. “G’ back ta’ sleep.” The banging sound continues.

“I think someone is knocking on our door.”

“Let ‘em knock, it’s tha’ middle of tha’ bloody night.”

Liam heaves out a sigh as the sound becomes louder. “Someone’s definitely knocking on our door. You should get up and get it, seeing as you’re officially a resident of this flat.”

“Fuck off, Parsons,” Niall groans as he rolls away from Liam in order to face away from him.

Liam barks out a soft laugh and kisses the back of Niall’s neck before slipping out of bed and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. “Alright, alright. I’ll get it.”

Niall sighs happily to himself and stretches out across the bed, curling up around the spot warmed by Liam’s body heat. He’s almost about to drift back to sleep, but then-

“Niall, you better get in here.”

Niall frowns and bolts upright in bed. He’s never heard Liam use that tone of voice. Niall jumps up and grabs another pair of Liam’s sweatpants, hopping on one foot and then the other as he pulls them on. He dashes out of the bedroom, panting. “What?”

Liam looks up from where he’s crouched on the floor next to a dark heap, but doesn’t say anything.

“Liam, is that-” Harry. It is Harry. Cursing under his breath, Niall dashes across the living room. “Fuck, Harry.” Liam’s got an arm underneath Harry’s shoulder, propping him up of the ground.

“He was leaning against the door, and he just fell in when I opened it-” Liam babbles.

“Shhh, shhh. It’s okay, Liam.” Niall pauses, and then drops to his knees, shuffling closer to Harry. “Harry, can you hear me?”

Harry looks up at him through a wet fringe of hair. His clothes are soaked; he must have been out in the rain for quite some time. The first thing that Niall notices, however, is that his wide eyes are glassy and his pupils are dilated.

“Fuck,” whispers Niall.

“What?” asks Liam, panicked.

“He’s high.”

“What?”

“Yeah, heroin. He’s an addict. But he’s been clean for six months….something must have sent him off. Harry, talk to me.” But Harry still says nothing, simply staring back at Niall. “Fuck, he’s really out of it.”

“What do we do?” asks Liam, frantically thinking back to his training. He’s sure that they went over this when they took those first aid courses at the Police Academy but he can’t remember-

“Let’s get him into the shower. Can you pick him up?”

“Yeah, no problem.” Liam heaves Harry’s limp body into his arms and stands up. Niall dashes in front of them to the bathroom where he turns on the water as hot as it can go.

“Here, get him in.” Niall helps Liam maneuver Harry, still clothed, so that he’s sitting under the spray. Harry slumps forward, his head bobbing. “Nope, nope. You don’t get to nod out on me, lad.” He slaps Harry across the face so violently that Liam jumps. “Keep him awake, yeah? I’m gonna go call Louis and see what the fuck is up.” Liam nods, leaning forward on his knees so that he can keep Harry upright.

Niall walks out of the bathroom, but then retraces his steps to poke his head back in. “Oh…and….watch out. He’s probably gonna throw up.” Liam grimaces in acknowledgement, but doesn’t say anything.

Niall pads towards Liam’s bed, bending down to root around on the floor for his phone. Something buzzes from the corner of the room, and Niall finds his phone, which, to his surprise, has an incoming call from Zayn. He answers it with a swipe of his thumb. “Hello?”

“Hey, Niall!” Zayn sounds like he’s out of breath. “I’m sorry to call you so late but-”

“Harry.”

“Yeah, he showed up to the bar high out of his mind looking for you, and when I reminded him that you’ve moved in with Liam he disappeared! I have no idea where-”

“He’s here.” Niall taps a bare foot against the carpet.

“What?”

“He somehow found Liam’s flat. We’ve got him in the shower right now.”

“ _Alhamdulillah _.” Zayn breathes out his thanks.__

“I know.” Niall sighs. “I’m gonna call Louis, but I’ll call you back if we need anything.” He pauses, and Zayn doesn’t say anything. Niall knows that they’re both thinking about the fact that the last time they’d been in this situation, taking care of Harry, he and Zayn had been the “we.” Louis had even given them shit about that.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Zayn finally says. “The Tommo will know what’s going on. They probably had a fight or something.”

“Or something,” mutters Niall. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Alright. Good luck.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Niall hangs up, staring at the phone in his hand for a moment. He shakes his head, dials a number, and lifts it back to his ear.

“Niall?”

“Hey, Louis.”

“Is he with you? Please tell me-”

“Yeah, he is. He somehow found his way to Liam’s flat-”

“Oh, thank God.”

“-but he’s high. I don’t think he’s overdosed this time, but he certainly doesn’t look good.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“What the fuck happened, Louis?” Niall tries and fails to keep the anger out of his voice.

“We….we had a fight.”

“Yeah, I figured,” growls Niall.

“It’s…..it’s my fault. I slept with Eleanor, and then I wouldn’t leave our flat, and I said some really nasty shit-”

“Bloody hell, Louis.”

“I know. I fucked up.”

Niall snorts and agitatedly rubs a hand through his hair. “You think?”

“Fuck. I know. Is there….is there anything you need?”

“No. He can stay the night here, but we’ll bring him back over to yours in the morning. You’ve still got some methadone?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Withdrawal’s gonna be a bitch, just like it always is, and I’d rather he didn’t go through it at Liam’s flat.”

“I understand.” Niall can hear Louis sigh. “Thank you, Niall. You’re a good friend.”

“You need to be a better boyfriend.”

“Fuck…I…I know.”

“I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Thanks again, Niall.”

“Yeah,” says Niall, his voice clipped with anger.

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Niall tosses his phone onto Liam’s bedside table and walks back to the bathroom. “How’s he doing?” he asks softly, moving to kneel next to Liam. He reaches out a hand to push Harry’s soaked hair out of his face.

“Okay, I think. He threw up a little bit.” Liam makes a face. “We’re gonna have to get these wet clothes off of him.”

Niall sighs and rests his face on Liam’s shoulder, breathing in slowly against Liam’s skin in an attempt to calm down. He reaches a hand up and runs it through Liam’s hair and then down his back, letting it come to rest, tapping absently, at Liam’s lower back. “Yeah. Let’s get him out of the tub.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two men retreat to the living room a short while later with some extra blankets, Harry tucked snugly into Liam’s bed and wearing some of his old clothes. Niall heaves out a sigh and plops down onto the couch. “Can you get me a beer?”

“It’s five in the morning, Ni.”

“Yeah, and I need a bloody beer.” Niall says, his voice muffled by the arm he’s thrown across his face. Liam nods, his mouth turned down in a considering frown, and then opens the fridge. He pulls out two beers, opens them, and sits down on the couch next to his boyfriend.

“Here,” Liam says, handing one to Niall.

“Thanks.” Niall drags his arm away from his face and sits up with some difficulty. “You don’t have work tomorrow, do you?”

“I’ve got the afternoon shift,” Liam responds, taking a sip of his beer. Niall nods, and copies his motion. They sit in silence for a while, until Niall finishes his beer and places the empty bottle down on the coffee table.

“C’mere,” he says, swinging his legs up onto the couch and leaning back against its arm. “Need ta’ hold you.”

Liam complies, setting down his beer and scooting across the couch until he’s in between Niall’s legs, his chest resting on top of Niall’s. Niall hums in contentment, wrapping one arm around Liam’s back and bringing his free hand up to stroke through Liam’s hair. “I love you, you know,” he murmurs into Liam’s temple.

“I love you, too,” Liam huffs down into Niall’s neck. Niall’s arm tightens around his back in response.

“I’ve seen this before, you know,” Niall says, his voice barely above a whisper. Liam merely strokes a gentle hand across his chest and waits for him to explain. “Harry’s an addict, and I’ve seen him relapse over and over again. It’s kind of like….it’s like his relationship with Louis. They love each other, I think. But it’s not good for either of them. But they keep going back to each other.” Niall pauses, and then his voice drops even lower. “I’m glad….” Liam feels Niall’s Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows heavily. “I’m glad I found you,” he says, and it’s so soft that Liam almost misses it. “I think you’re good for me.”

Liam blinks back tears, because he’s not. He’s not good for Niall. He’s actually really fucking bad for this wonderful man. Niall’s going to go to jail for the rest of his life and it’s going to be his fault.

“Liam….” Niall cranes his neck in an attempt to look at the man pressed against him. “Are you….are you crying?”

“No,” Liam mutters, clearing his throat.

“It’s okay if you are.”

“Okay….maybe I am,” Liam concedes. Niall smiles softly up at him, runs his fingers gently through Liam’s hair, and it’s enough to make tears well up in Liam’s eyes again.

“Hey, hey,” murmurs Niall. “It’s alright.”

Liam clings to Niall desperately, willing himself not to cry. He can’t break down like he wants to, because Niall can’t know why he’s upset. “I’m fine. Just…emotional.”

“I know. Dealing with Harry and Louis’ shit is always emotional. Try to get some sleep, yeah?”

Liam nods against Niall’s chest, curling impossibly closer to him. “Okay.”

“Goodnight, Liam. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You two….really are…..a beautiful couple.”

Liam groggily raises his head from Niall’s chest to take in the tall, skinny figure clad in a Wolverhampton Track Club sweatshirt and sweatpants. Harry.

“Hey, Harry,” he says, his voice still thick with sleep. He squints against the late morning sunlight crawling in through the slats of his blinds. “How are you?”

“I’m alright. Withdrawal hasn’t set in yet…but….it will soon.” Harry says in his trademark slow drawl. He crosses his arms against his chest, folding his entire body in.

At the sound of their voices, Niall begins to stir beneath Liam. Liam looks down at him, and Harry quickly speaks up again before Niall wakes up. “Listen….Liam. Thank you….for last night. I don’t….remember what happened…but I did wake up in your bed. So. I can assume. Thank you. Niall….” Harry juts his chin towards the slowly awakening blonde. “….is my friend, so he has to help me. You…don’t. And you did anyway.”

Liam sits up all of the way. “I’d like to be your friend, Harry.”

Harry smiles sadly. “I’d like that too. You’re a good one, Liam Parsons. You’re….good for him. He needs you,” he says, echoing Niall’s sentiment from last night.

Liam feels his stomach drop, but he smiles anyway. He’s getting really fucking good at that. “Thanks, mate. I need him, too.”

Niall groans and lifts his arms above his head, stretching slowly. Liam’s smile gets a bit more genuine, and he leans over to kiss Niall. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

“Fuck off,” Niall slurs. “What time ‘s it?”

“Dunno. But Harry’s up,” Liam replies. At that, Niall’s eyes fly open.

“Harry! How are you feeling?”

Harry lifts one shoulder in a slight shrug. “Not terrible. Will be in a couple of hours, though.” Liam thinks that it’s strange to hear him speak in such short, clipped sentences. Usually the man drones on forever.

“Yeah, I told Louis that we would take you back to the flat for the methadone-”

“’M not going back to the flat.”

Niall sits up. “What?”

“I’m not-Louis slept with Eleanor Calder!”

Niall sighs and grips one of Liam’s hands with both of his own. “I know.”

“You….know? And you’re not more upset about it?”

“Of _course _I’m bloody upset about it, Harry, but I’m more concerned about you! Where are you going to go if you don’t go back to the flat? Where are you going to live? I mean, I’m glad that you’ve finally broken up with Louis but-”__

“’M gonna check myself into the hospital and ride out my withdrawal there.”

Niall exchanges a startled look with Liam. “They’ll give you a counselor and he’ll check up on you regularly. We can’t afford that kind of government attention, Haz.”

“I’ll give them me mum’s address.”

“You’re moving back in with your mum in Chesire?”

“Yeah. I need….to get out of London, Ni. I need to get away from the drugs, and I need to get away from Louis.”

Niall sighs heavily, running his thumb back and forth over the back of Liam’s hand. “I suppose…” he ventures finally. “I suppose that’s for the best.” Liam nods in agreement.

“I think so,” says Harry.

“D’you want us to go with you to the hospital?” asks Niall.

“No. I mean….I’d appreciate it if you’d check in on me later.” Harry sends a small smile towards Liam. “It won’t be pretty. But now….you should go to The Station. Zayn called me…that’s what woke me up. He said that he’d gotten through to Lloyd and that everything’s a go. Whatever that means.”

Liam’s vision blurs, and he involuntarily slumps over, placing his head between his legs. He feels a slight press on his back-Niall’s hand maybe? He can also hear voices calling to him distantly-Niall and Harry. But he can’t make out what they’re saying. He can’t move. Because this is it. It’s over.


	19. Judgement Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I've finally made it this far after working on this fic for a year! Thank you SO MUCH for reading and providing me with feedback. The last two chapters are a two part epilogue. I wrote them AGES ago, so they'll be up as soon as I finish editing them! Hope you enjoy Chapter 19.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Violence

_One week later_.  


“So you’re absolutely certain that Malik’s shipment is going to arrive at The Station in two weeks?” Kellen leans across the rickety table to transfix Liam with an intense stare. Kellen, Commander Cowell, and Danielle had arranged for Liam to meet with them in a ramshackle hotel across the city from Liam’s flat in order to go over strategy, and now they’re currently gathered in a damp, dark room conversing in whispers. Liam can feel the spores of mold in the room tickling his throat, heightening his already frantic sense of anxiety. _Everything is moving too fast_. _Niall, Niall, Niall_. He clears his throat.

“Uh….yes. Yes, sir.” He feels, rather than sees, Danielle smile warmly at him. She’d already told him how proud she was of him; they’d both arrived for the meet up fifteen minutes early, and she’d promptly pulled him into a discreet corner where she’d alternately pressed feverish kisses into his mouth and murmured fervent words of love and pride into his cheek.

“But you don’t have any information other than that. We don’t know what type of guns they’ll be, or how many there will be-”

“Look,” Liam says, the harsh tone of his voice startling even him. “Malik plays things really close to the chest. I’ve told you everything you need to know to make an arrest! You’ve got the arrival date of the weapons, you know that they’ll be automatic, and you know that he intends to sell them,” he barks out. There’s a moment of silence, and Liam clears his throat again. Commander Cowell stifles a shit eating grin with his fist.

“I’m sorry-” Liam starts, but Danielle interrupts him.

“It’s fine, Liam.” She places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been undercover for over six months. We get it. We know that you’re stressed. You don’t have to apologize for snapping at Officer Kellen.” Kellen bobs his head in agreement. Liam presses his lips together in a thin line and nods back.

He thinks, _They don’t know how I feel_. _They don’t know that I’m going to have to betray someone I love_.

Instead, he says, “Right. Is there anything else that you need from me? Ni- _Horan_ knows my schedule pretty well; he’ll start to wonder where I am if I’m gone for long.”

Commander Cowell nods. “You’ve already signed these affidavits stating that they’ll have the weapons in two weeks; after we arrest them you’ll have to make some more sworn statements to allow them to be prosecuted. Our legal team and the prosecutor’s office will help you with that, so there’s no need to worry about it now. Hmmmm….other than that…have your burn phone on you and be ready to call in the cavalry as soon as the weapons arrive.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good lad. You know, you might be up for a promotion after this. I’d certainly recommend you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Commander Cowell nods. “Right.” He stands up, winks at Liam, and then turns to address Kellen “What do you say we get out of here and give them some privacy?” Kellen’s eyes widen in surprise, but he follows Commander Cowell out of the hotel room without another word.

“Oh my _god_ , Cowell knows?” Liam dimly registers Danielle’s gasp. “Oh my god, Liam!”

“That’s the least of my concerns right now, Dani,” he drily responds.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Danielle sighs and stands up from her own chair only to sit down in Liam’s lap. When he doesn’t move to touch her, she slowly reaches up and runs her fingers through his hair. “I like it like this. A little bit longer. You look hip.” She tugs on it teasingly.

“Dani-”

“Okay, I’m sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood.” She sighs again and then leans forward slightly, lightly resting her forehead against Liam’s. “I can’t wait for you to come home.”

“Me too.”

“I’ve just…..I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Is that all you’ve got to say?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t-I can’t think about anything except the mission right now.”

“Just for a minute, Li,” Dani pleads, and Liam cringes at the familiar nickname. “I haven’t seen you in six months and I get that you’re stressed about the mission, and that you need to remain focused…..but can we please pretend that nothing exists outside of this hotel room, if only for a moment.” When Liam remains silent, impassive, she continues. “I’ve been thinking that we could get a dog instead of a turtle. I know that we’ve never really talked about it, but I’ve always wanted a dog. We could even name it after one of those comics you love so much! We could name it Batman, or Spiderman, or-shoot. What was the name of the guy you liked so much in that movie with Natalie Portman?”

“Loki.”

“Loki! That’s actually really cute! We could get a dog and name him Loki-”

“Dani,” Liam manages to choke out. “I can’t, I really can’t-” And he doesn’t mean for it to happen, but suddenly there are hot tears streaking down his face. He loves Danielle, he does, and he’s so glad that her arms are around him again, but he doesn’t love her like he loves Niall. He’s _in love_ with Niall, and he can’t think about a future with Danielle since it necessarily involves ratting Niall out. He’s never felt this much helplessness, this much despair in his entire life.

“Oh, Liam.” Danielle’s arms slip down to encircle his neck, and she pushes his face into her shoulder with a gentle palm. “Oh, love. I am so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Shit.”

“’s fine,” Liam snuffles into her shirt.

They’re silent then, rocking back and forth on the little chair in the dingy hotel room as Liam tries in vain to staunch the flow of salt water from his eyes. Two weeks.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
 _One week later_.  


“You trying to eat me face off, mate?” Niall laughs and pushes Liam away from him. Liam blushes and bashfully scrapes his feet across the ground as they stroll down the sidewalk.

“Sorry….uh…sorry. I’m just-”

“Really horny?” Niall guesses, curling his lips in a wicked grin. Liam leans back in and kisses him again, briefly. He can never resist that twinkle in Niall’s eyes.

“Uhh…maybe?”

“What, you thought cos you bought me dinner you can get into my pants?”

“Niall….” whines Liam. Niall laughs his beautiful, body shaking laugh before pushing at Liam’s chest again.

“Don’t worry, mate! I’m not gonna leave you high and dry. But there’s something else I wanna do before we go home.”

 _Home_. _Niall thinks of my flat as his home_. The word makes that something in Liam’s chest twinge again; it’s been happening more and more frequently around Niall, but, now that he thinks about, it’s really been happening all along. Liam thinks that maybe the love he has for this boy is actually capable of shocking his heart like a live, electric current. “What do you want to do?”

And there’s the wicked grin again, so open and happy yet so mischievous. Niall somehow manages to look like trouble and a sunny day all wrapped up into one. “You’ll see. C’mon….let’s get a taxi.”

They flag one down and hop into the back seat, legs pressed tightly against each other and their hands clasped in Liam’s lap. He knows that he’s being needy and overly affectionate, touching and kissing Niall almost constantly. But he can’t help it; it’s his last week with Niall. Niall, for his part, doesn’t seem to want to talk after he’s given an address to the cabbie, and Liam doesn’t disturb his silence. However, he can’t refrain from gasping when they pull up in front of a brightly lit shop with large glass windows.

“Niall-”

Niall ignores him in favor of passing some banknotes to the cabbie and then pulling him from the cab by his hand. “I’ll explain inside, c’mon.”

The door swings open and Liam’s senses are immediately assaulted by the bright, white lights and antiseptic smell of the tattoo parlor. Niall seems to know where he’s going as he walks right past the reception desk to the back of the shop, still towing Liam behind him.

“Niall-” Liam repeats, but Niall continues to ignore him. A bright, tousled head of red hair lifts up from beside one of the tattoo benches at the sound of Liam’s voice.

“Ed!” shrieks Niall, practically bouncing into the redhead’s arms before the other man can stand up.

“Niall, you crazy little bastard!” the redhead exclaims. “Are you finally here to do it, then?”

“Yeah, hope that’s alrigh’.”

“’course! I’ve still got the design you sent me the other week. I modified it a bit, but I think you’ll like it.” The man roots around in a folder next to his station, finds a sheet of paper, and hands it over to Niall. He then peeks around Niall at Liam. “Is this him?”

Niall blushes a deep red. “Uh…uhh…Liam! Liam, this is my mate Ed Sheeran. He's the one that gave Harry all of his terrible tattoos."

"Hey now!"

"And uhh....Ed….this is my....Liam. Er, my boyfriend Liam.”

Ed grins widely. “Pleased to meet you, Niall’s Liam.” He extends one heavily tattooed arm to shake Liam’s hand.

“So you…er…you’re a tattoo artist. And you’re gonna….tattoo Niall?”

“Oh, wow. He’s a smart one, Niall. I can see why you never shut up about him,” chuckles Ed.

Niall’s blush deepens to a shade that Liam has never even seen before. “Shut it, you.”

Ed laughs again. “Only kidding, mate.” He turns back to Liam. “But seriously. Good to finally meet you, dude.”

“Uhhh…you, too,” Liam stammers out, still preoccupied with the fact that Niall is here to get a tattoo and he’s talked to this tattoo artist about him. That doesn’t mean….?

“I’ll go get my tools and give you two some privacy. Looks like you owe your boy an explanation, Niall.” With that, Ed strolls away from his station into the very back of the tattoo parlor.

As soon as he disappears, Liam whips around. “ _You’re getting a tattoo_?” he hisses.

“Yeah.”

“ _What are you getting_?”

“You don’t have to keep whispering, Liam.”

“ _Stop avoiding the question_!”

Niall laughs a little at that, but Liam can tell that it’s a nervous laugh. “Here,” he says, and thrusts the paper that Ed had handed to him at Liam. It’s a simple but beautiful design; a long, slender feather in black ink.

“It’s beautiful,” breathes Liam, glancing back up at Niall.

Niall blushes again, a faint pink this time, and awkwardly rubs at the back of his head. “Thanks.”

Liam’s almost afraid to ask, but splutters anyway, “What does it mean?”

“It’s uhhhh…it’s about you.”

“Me?” It comes out as an incredulous squeak.

Niall snorts. “Yep. You uhh…you make me feel free. So.” He jerkily gestures towards the paper still tightly clutched in Liam’s white fingers. “That’s what I’m getting. We….ah…we talked about tattoos when we first started hanging out, that time at karaoke....” Liam nods. Of course he remembers. He’ll never forget those first electric brushes of Niall’s fingers across the ink on his forearms. “And I said that I wanted to wait to get one until I was absolutely sure of what I wanted. And now I’m sure.” Niall closes the distance between them and grabs Liam’s chin in one big hand. “I’m absolutely sure about you, Liam Parsons,” he whispers. “I love you.”

Liam gulps harshly. “Me too. I….love you, too. And I’m sure about that, too. And….” he pauses, looking deep into Niall’s blue eyes, searching for something that he knows is there. “I want it, too,” he says, his voice dropping down into a low, soft tone. Niall’s eyes widen, and his fingers twitch against Liam’s chin.

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to.”

“Are you sure-”

“I just said I was, didn’t I?”

There’s a moment of silence as the two men stare at each other. And then Niall abruptly flings his arms around Liam and frantically, passionately kisses him. Liam grins into the kiss and wraps his arms around Niall, holding him in place as he leaps against him.

“Oi! You too!” They don’t break apart at the sound of Ed’s voice, floating to them from across the shop. “Break it up! That’s disgusting! No…. _no_! No! You _cannot_ do that on my bloody bench. Stop it, you terrors!”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


Hours later, back in a cab with Niall snoring quietly against his shoulder, Liam looks down at the feather on the inside of his boyfriend’s arm, and then at the identical one twining around the words “Everything I ever wanted but nothing that I’ll ever need” on his own forearm. And, for the first time, Liam thinks that they’re wrong. He needs Niall.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


 _Today_.

 _Ring_. _Ring_. _Ring_. _Ring_. _Ring_. _Ring_.

“Fuck’s sake,” groans Niall. He rolls away from Liam’s arms and reaches towards the bedside table for his phone. Liam sits up, leaning his elbows against his knees as he watches Niall closely.

“Hello?” Niall grunts. Liam raises an inquiring eyebrow, and Niall rolls his eyes in response. “Yeah, hey Zayn. Yeah, I know today’s the day.”

At that, Liam falls back onto the bed from his upright position. Niall smiles down at him and absently strokes a thumb across Liam’s bare shoulder.

“Yeah, we’ll be there in an hour. Okay. See you soon. Bye.” Niall hangs up and looks at the time on his phone. “It’s 1 am in the bloody morning,” he groans. “It’s gonna be the longest day of me life.” When Liam remains silent, Niall glances over at him. “You get any sleep?”

“A little,” lies Liam. In fact, he’d been awake since they’d tried to fall asleep at 9 pm, too high on nerves to sleep. And then there’s the fact that every moment he spends with Niall is quickly approaching their last moment together. Even if Liam had been able to sleep, he would have spent the past four hours in the exact same fashion that he just had: watching the gentle rise and fall of Niall’s chest, the fluttering of his eyelashes, and the twitches of his biceps as he slept in an attempt to memorize everything about him. His memories will be all he has after today; Niall will never want to speak to him again.

Niall sees the tension, written in Liam’s shoulders and across his furrowed brow. “Hey….hey,” he murmurs, stretching back out across the bed to kiss Liam. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“I know.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Niall sighs. “I know that it’s….late…for this, but I am sorry that I got you all wrapped up in this shit.”

This time it’s Liam’s turns to kiss Niall. “There was no other option. I love you, Niall.” He wonders how many times he’ll be able say that in the next couple of hours before he’ll never be able to say it again. As many as possible.

“I love you, too. Now c’mon, let’s get up and get to The Station. The guns’ll be here any minute now and Zayn’s about to have a cow.”

The two men rise from the bed and go about their morning routine quickly and quietly; making coffee, scarfing down toast, pulling on dark clothes, brushing their teeth, smearing lotion over their fresh, matching tattoos. Niall catches Liam’s eye in the mirror as they do so, fingers rubbing across dark ink in identical motions. Liam locks the door of the flat as they leave, but then abruptly spins around.

“Shit!”

“What?”

“I forgot my bandanna. Don’t wanna be wiping away sweat with one of Zayn’s filthy rags.”

“Oh, good point. Get me one?”

“Sure thing. Wait right here.” Liam pecks Niall on the lips, unlocks the door, and dashes back into the flat. He heads straight back to his bedroom and yanks open one of the drawers, digging through it with shaking fingers. He finds his burn phone buried at the very bottom and carefully takes it out, holding as if frightened that it might fall apart in his hands. He pauses, staring at it.

“You find ‘em?” Niall calls through the open door, interrupting his momentary reverie.

Liam startles. “Yep!” he yells back, voice strained. “One sec!” Galvanized into action, he types out a quick text.

 _Weapons arrive in approx 1 hr_. _Wait 30 mins before making arrest_.

He shoves the phone into his back pocket, grabs two bandannas, and hustles out of the door. He feels like he’s going to his own funeral.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 _Two hours later_.

“Fuck,” huffs Niall as they load crates out of large truck and into The Station’s basement. “These are really fucking heavy.” Louis, huffing and puffing next to him, has nothing to say for once. Liam, walking behind them, staggers a bit, slips on the stairs, and is saved by Zayn Malik.

Zayn grasps his elbow firmly, hauls him to his feet, and takes his crate out of his arms “You alrigh’, mate?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Zayn’s eyes narrow. “You sure? You look quite pale.”

“I’m fine. Just a bit of nerves.”

“Don’t bitch out on me, mate. These are the big leagues, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Seemingly satisfied with Liam’s answer, Zayn nods. “I’ll take this down. Go back to the truck and get another.” Liam hastens to get away and follow his orders, dashing up the stairs. As soon as he reaches the ground floor of The Station, he reaches into his back pocket. It had buzzed a few moments ago, but Liam hadn’t been able to look at it in front of the others. He has a perfect opportunity now that they’re all in the basement. The text is from Dani.

 _Come outside ASAP_. _Ready to make arrests_.

A litany of curses break out in Liam’s head, and for a moment he almost doesn’t obey, but then his feet take him, seemingly of their own volition, to the front of The Station. Squad cars and special ops wagons are silently pulling up, lights and sirens off, invisible in the dark of the early morning. Men pour out of them, noiseless. Danielle, Kellen, and Commander Cowell, all clad in bulletproof vests with their badges hanging around their necks, lean against the side of one of the squad cars. Liam walks over to them as if in a dream.

“You’ve done a fine job, Officer Payne,” Commander Cowell congratulates him in a low voice. “I’ll take it from here.” He claps Liam on the shoulder and walks over to talk to a short man whom Liam assumes to be the special ops commander.

The sound of his real last name shocks Liam into reality. It’s finally happening. I’m betraying the man I love. He rounds on Danielle. “ _Special ops_?” he snarls.

“Yes,” Danielle whispers harshly, and Kellen looks between them with one raised eyebrow. “They’re heavily armed, Liam. We had to.”

“They’re not gonna shoot anyone!”

“We don’t know that! I know that you’ve grown quite fond of them over the past few months, but I know I don’t need to remind you that all three of the men in there have violent records.”

“Niall got into a bar fight, he’s not gonna-”

“Why is this about Niall?” Danielle asks, confusion written on her face.

Kellen interrupts them. “I’m sorry to break up this lover’s quarrel-” They both glance at him, startled. It’s not like him to make such a rude quip, but it is early and tensions are riding high. “But, Liam, you need to put these on.” He passes Liam a bulletproof vest identical to the ones worn by him and Danielle. Liam pulls it on, fastens the straps, and then accepts a handgun from Kellen. As he fastens it to his hip, Cowell finishes up his conversation with the commander of special ops. The man motions towards the special ops officers, menacingly clad in black and bearing automatic weapons. They begin to form up ranks and advance towards The Station, guns out and held before them.

Kellen elbows Liam, drawing his attention away from the officers. “Badge,” he whispers, passing it to Liam. Liam accepts it and holds it in his palm. _This is it_. _This is who I am_. _I am not Liam Parsons, love of Niall Horan’s life_. _I am Liam Payne, proud member of the London police force and Danielle Peazer’s loyal boyfriend_.

He slowly drops the chain over his head. The badge swings down and thumps against his bulletproof. This is who I am.

He looks up just in time to see the last of the special ops men disappear into The Station. There’s a long moment of silence…..and then another…..and then another…..and then another. Time stretches out for an eternity. Liam distantly realizes that he’s holding his breath, but he can’t bring himself to exhale. And then……gunshots.

 _I am the love of Niall Horan’s life_. _This is who I am_.

A primal scream tears its way out of Liam’s chest. “No!”

“Liam, what-” But Liam doesn’t listen to Danielle. He ducks under the arms of the officers who’ve established a perimeter around The Station without another thought, and then he’s inside the dark, cavernous interior. A member of the special ops team must have found one of the light switches, but only a few of the lights are on.

The sound of gunshots ring all around him, and Liam drops to a crouch. He looks around as he desperately tries to assess the situation. The special ops team has split into two; one faction is focusing its gunfire on a table that’s been tipped over in the middle of the room, and the other is focusing its gunfire on the bar. As Liam watches, Zayn pops up from behind the bar with a gun grasped firmly in his hand and shoots at the officers, who return with a barrage of gunfire. Zayn ducks back down, narrowly avoiding the rounds. There’s a momentary pause in the gunfire, in which Liam hears curses spit heatedly out in a Doncaster accent from behind the table. _So that’s where Louis is_. _But where is Niall_? And then he realizes where he is. Zayn. Zayn used to love Niall; he still loves Niall. He would die trying to protect Niall. As would Liam.

Liam springs forward, his body moving before his mind decides to act. “I’m an officer! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” he shouts at the top of his lungs as he runs in front of the special ops officers. He doesn’t know if they understand him, but they don’t fire. He makes it to the bar, kneels down, peeks around and-

The barrel of a gun is pressed against his forehead.

“Zayn! It’s me, Liam!” The gun drops.

“Liam, alhamduillah-” Zayn abruptly cuts off his own thanks. “What the fuck?” He’s noticed the bulletproof vest. The gun is pressed back against his forehead. Liam ignores it in favor of leaning to look behind Zayn, and ah. There he is. Niall is huddled down against the dirty floor, staring at Liam with wide, panicked eyes.

“You’re-”

“I love him.” Liam interrupts Zayn, ignoring the gun against his head. “I bloody love him. You love him, too. Give him to me now. I can get him out of here.”

Zayn is silent for a moment- _and Liam doesn’t know what else to say, he has nothing else to say, but they have to be fast, Zayn has to trust him_ -and then as if reaching a decision, nods. “I know you love him.” Zayn lowers the gun and reaches over to grab Niall by his shirt collar, thrusting him violently towards Liam. “Go.”

Liam nods and grasps the front of Niall’s shirt, dragging him out from behind the bar. The blonde, in shock, still says nothing. “Police! Police!” screams Liam. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” And then he’s hauling Niall across the floor with him, one arm wrapped around his narrow waist. Gunshots erupt behind them; Zayn laying down covering fire, Liam thinks. His ability to think clearly stuns him. He feels as if his senses are heightened, strengthened in order to better serve his purpose: he has to save this boy.

He dashes towards a side door, slams against it with one shoulder, and falls through it, dragging Niall with him into the alley. They hit the cobblestones heavily, rolling away from The Station. Immediately, Liam jerks up and crawls over to Niall. “Niall! Niall! Are you okay? Are you hit?”

Niall stares up at him with those shocked, vacant eyes and then shakes his head as if clearing water from his ears. His face suddenly floods with emotion; his eyes burn.

“Oh, thank god. You look fine-”

“ _Liam_.” Niall cuts him off with his name. But what is that tone? Liam’s never heard it before. It’s low, but intense.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Liam staggers to his feet and reaches out a hand to help Niall up. Niall sits up, but doesn’t move from the ground. “Now come on. We’ve gotta get you out of here. The special ops team is gonna come out at any moment. You’ve gotta run…get a taxi and go straight to the airport. Don’t stop to do anything else. Get on the first plane out of the country; you should be able to leave before they send out your picture.” Liam rambles on, “Besides, they think you’re a poor slum kid. They’re not gonna think that you left the country; they’ll think you’re hiding close by. We need to use that to our advantage-”

“ _Liam_ ,” Niall says in the same odd tone.

“We’re wasting time. Go, run!”

“You’re a cop.”

“Yes, I’m a cop. I know this is hard but we can’t -we don’t have time for this, please-”

“ _You’re a cop_ ,” snarls Niall as he folds up to his feet. And oh. The fire in his eyes is anger.

“Niall, please, you have to run _now_ -” Liam’s plea is cut off by the swing of Niall’s fist. He ducks the punch, but then the blonde crashes into his midsection and sends them both back to the ground. They grapple, rolling back and forth across the dirty ground and trading punches. Liam’s larger than Niall, more solidly built, and he manages to pin the smaller man beneath him.

“Niall! Niall, stop!”

“You were lying to me _this entire time_ ,” Niall howls. He swings at the man above him, thumping his torso, his arms, and his chest, over and over.

“I’m sorry! We can’t do this now-”

“You were a fucking _undercover cop this entire time_.” Niall repeats his words almost exactly, deaf to Liam’s pleas.

Liam pins Niall’s swinging arms down, pressing them against the concrete as he looms over him. “Bloody hell, you’ve got to-” Niall yanks out of his grasp and Liam flinches away instinctively, but the blonde simply grabs his forearm tightly and squeezes. Confused, Liam looks down at him.

“ _This_ was a lie,” hisses Niall, tightening his grip even further. Pain shoots through his forearm and Liam, wincing, realizes that Niall has wrapped his fingers around his freshly inked feather.

“It wasn’t-” But then Niall takes advantage of Liam’s motionlessness and yanks viciously on his forearm, pulling him off and to the side. Niall rolls, following the motion and demonstrating his natural knack for brawling as he pins Liam, knees tight on either side of his hips. He leans forward, still continuing the fluid motion, yanks Liam’s handgun from its holster, and aims it squarely down at Liam’s forehead. Liam freezes, shocked by Niall’s speed and by the burning blue eyes hovering over the muzzle of the gun pointed down at him.

“You. Lied. To. Me.” Niall’s screaming now, his voice hoarse.

“Niall, please, don’t-”

“ _Don’t say my name_.” And it’s madness, madness all around them . Gunfire echoes inside the hollow space of The Station, and there’s a buzzing in Liam’s ears, in his mind-

And then a calm voice cuts across it.

“Niall Horan, drop your weapon and step away from the officer.” Danielle. Liam turns his head and sees her silhouette in the opening of the alley, her own gun pointed at Niall. Niall, oblivious to her words, continues to yell hysterically at Liam.

“I slept with you. I trusted you. I _loved_ you-”

“Niall! Listen to her! Drop the gun,” Liam begs.

“ _Niall Horan_. Drop your weapon and step away from him. Now.”

“ _You used me_ ,” Niall spits at Liam.

“She _will_ shoot you, please, do as she says!” Liam frantically begs. His mind is screaming _no no no no_. This is not what was supposed to happen.

“This is your last warning, Horan.”

This time, Niall seems to register Danielle’s words. In response, he releases the gun’s safety and cocks it, the clicking sounds bouncing ominously off the alley walls as he steadily aims the gun at Liam's head.

“Niall, no-” Liam screams, his voice raw with panic.

A single shot rings out. And then….silence.

Liam can feel Niall slump above him, his weight tipping off of him as he falls to the side.

“Niall! _Niall_! No, please, no.”


	20. Moving On Like a Train From Its Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: mentions of rape (not explicit, just a passing reference).
> 
> Thank you so much for staying with me through this incredible journey. I started with these last two chapters a year ago and then worked backwards to write this fic. I think you'll be able to tell how much effort and thought I've put into these two particular chapters, and I hope you like it. Fair warning, it is very sad. Don't hate me. I'll have the final chapter up after next week. After that, I plan to work on the Ziall prequel to this fic, "Beneath Our Castles." The first two chapters of that are already up. Thanks again! As always, I love hearing from you all.

_Four years later_.

The shaggy haired brunette stands behind the locked gate, fidgeting with the belt loops of his jeans. After all of this time, it’s strange to be wearing any clothing other than a gray prison tracksuit. Earlier, his fingers had struggled to complete the almost-forgotten action of buttoning up his shirt. The gate buzzes and the guard waves him lazily forward. The brunette starts nervously, takes a deep breath, straightens his shoulders (carefully), steels himself, and then, finally, walks out of prison. Just outside of the gate, he pauses and squints his eyes up at the bright sun. It’s different, now, seeing it untethered by the high concrete walls of the yard. It’s different, now that he’s a free man again. The brunette lowers his eyes from the sky and abruptly freezes at the sight before him. A few feet away, leaning up against a beaten up truck with his arms folded across his chest, is a familiar silhouette. The hair is different-it’s longer on top than it’s ever been before, but shorter on the sides. He’s combed it up off his forehead. He also has a beard, cropped close to his face. But those eyes-he thinks he had once described them as puppy brown-those eyes are still the same. Except that the brunette thinks that they’re a great deal wearier than they were when he last saw them four years ago.

He walks forward slowly (hesitantly) and approaches the truck, moving to stand in front of the other man. “I wasn’t sure if you would come-”

“I wasn’t sure if I should co-” The two men attempt to speak at the same time, and then simultaneously stop.

“Harry said….Harry said it was probably a bad idea. He was gonna come pick you up, but I wanted to.”

The brunette opens his mouth to reply, closes it, and looks down at the ground, at a complete loss for words. The other man just watches him warily, unsure of what to say and (maybe more importantly) how to say it. The brunette looks up from the pavement, considers the other man thoughtfully for a few seconds and then, his mind seemingly made up, walks to the passenger side of the truck. The other man’s eyes widen as he scrambles to unlock the door and climb in. Seated in the truck, the brunette looks around the interior of the truck (studiously avoiding the eyes of the other man) and brushes his fingers across the dash and then down the side of his seat. His fingers still on the worn cushion.

“This truck looks familiar.” The brunette finally speaks again. He lifts his fingers slowly from the seat cushion to push his mop of dark shaggy hair out of his eyes, and turns to look at the man sitting next to him. “Why?” he asks, simply.

Liam swallows and replies, “It’s the….it’s the truck I rented. When we went fishing that one time. When I first-” He stops and brushes a shaking hand across his beard.

Niall stares silently at him from his seat on the passenger side of the car.

Liam grips the steering wheel tightly (Niall notes that his knuckles turn white and his tendons stick out from his forearms), takes a desperate gulp of air, and continues, “I bought it….after they put you away.” He pauses, but Niall still doesn’t make a sound. “It’s one of the few happy memories that I….” Liam trails off and clears his throat uncertainly. _Don’t you fucking cry, Liam_. _Get it together_.

Niall’s mouth narrows into a firm line and he nods grimly to himself as he turns away from Liam to look out of the grimy window of the truck. A few more minutes pass, excruciatingly dragging by in the vast, empty silence between the two men. Liam flexes his fingers and continues to hang onto the steering wheel as tightly as if it’s a life preserver saving him from drowning. Which, when he thinks about, is what he’s been doing for the past four years. He sneaks a glance at Niall out of the corner of his eye. What now?

After what seems like an eternity, Niall likewise clears his throat and breaks the silence (but not quite the tension) between them. “I haven’t had a pint in, like….four years.” Gallows humor.

“A pint? Okay, yeah. I can do that.” Liam turns the key in the ignition and practically throws the clutch into drive in his eagerness to finally do something. Niall just nods again, and continues to stare out of the window. He wants to look out on all of the life that he’s missed out on over the past two years (people hurrying down the street, a dog stopping to lift its leg to a tree, another freed convict embracing his family) but he feels as if he can’t see through the glass. All he can see in his mind’s eye are Liam’s brown eyes, those straining tendons in his forearms, his white knuckles at the wheel.

They drive to a little pub around the corner, the silence interrupted only when Niall notices that Liam is sneaking little glances at him. His mouth twists ruefully as he reaches up to pull at his hair. “No blonde dye in prison. Or hair gel.”

Liam looks again at Niall’s hair, lying flat and dark across his forehead. “No, it’s….it’s nice. I like it.” Niall turns back to the window. Liam almost cries in relief when they pull up to the pub.

They sit down at a booth of dark, stained wood. Liam orders for both of them. “Two pints of Guinness and two orders of fish and chips, please.” Niall still hasn’t said anything further. Liam decides to let Niall set the pace and remains silent as well.

Their food comes out shortly after their drinks. Niall wolfs down the contents of his plate, washing it down with his entire glass of beer. Liam slowly sips at his own glass and pushes his untouched plate of food across the table to Niall. Niall starts in on it as Liam signals the waiter for two more beers. Niall finishes Liam’s food, chugs the second beer, and then leans back from the table. He seems to gather himself and then, for the first time since he’d been sentenced to prison, he looks up and directly into Liam’s eyes.

Despite his best efforts, Liam almost loses his composure. Almost. He looks determinedly back at Niall. God, his eyes are even more brilliant and blue than Liam remembers. Liam gulps nervously and grabs his beer again, drinking it earnestly for the first time. He finishes and sets it back down, reaching for the second beer. He’s going to need a bit of a buzz to get through this.

Niall wets his lips with the tip of his tongue (Liam follows the motion over the rim of his glass, entranced) and speaks. “So I guess you want to hear about prison.”

Liam sets his second empty glass down on the table and leans forward slightly. Niall’s eyes have always been like magnets pulling him closer, further in. “Are you….are you ok? How’s your…..how’s the wound?” He had been dying to ask Niall about his injury from the first second he saw him. He had been reassured by the other officers that Niall would be fine, but the image of blood pouring unstaunched out of Niall’s stomach has haunted him every night since the storming of The Station.

“It’s fine, but I just got out of a maximum security prison, Liam. How the fuck do you think I am?” Hearing his name in Niall’s mouth sends a painful jolt down Liam’s spine.

“I’m sorry, I-” Liam stops and takes a deep breath. “Did….did someone hurt you?” He already swears that he’ll kill him, this nameless man who might have harmed Niall.

“What? Do you wanna hear about the rape?”

“Jesus, Niall. Did-”

“No,” Niall answers shortly. He notes that Liam’s knuckles are white again, his fist wrapped tightly around his empty glass. Niall breaks eye contact with Liam and looks sullenly down at the table, slowly tracing a whorl on the tabletop with a finger. “No one touched me.” One side of his mouth curls up bitterly. “The other inmates knew I belonged to Zayn.” Liam’s knuckles are still white. “Zayn’s not at Pentonville, but they knew that he would have his mates kill them if they so much as looked at me. And he’s got a lot of mates in prison.”

“I….” Liam doesn’t know what to say.

Niall shifts and his seat and looks back up at Liam. “How’s the police force?” he asks, not willing to say anything further about prison.

Liam’s eyes flash from confused to wounded in an instant. Kicked puppy, as Niall used to say. “I suppose I deserve that.”

“What? No, I…I asked because I want to know….”

“What do you mean? It was all over the news. Everything about you, and Zayn, and Harry and Louis…and me…”

“I never watched the news in prison. I didn’t want to see your-I didn’t to be reminded of the outside world.”

Liam signals for a third round. He needs more alcohol in him before he can talk about this. Niall waits, his shoulders tense and his eyes never leaving Liam’s face as they drain their respective glasses. Liam coughs, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and says, “I was fired.” Niall’s eyes widen, but he refrains from speaking. “Dishonorably discharged, is probably a more apt term. Or maybe, ‘burned at the stake’ in front of God and the crown.” Liam laughs humorlessly.

Niall waits to see if he’ll continue and, when he doesn’t, asks, “Fired? You put the lot of us behind bars.” Liam grimaces, not ready to broach this particular subject. Oh well. He supposes that he has to.

“I….I was fired because…I didn’t disclose…everything…to my superiors during my undercover mission.” Niall’s eyes are unreadable, his features staunchly fixed. “I didn’t tell them…I didn’t tell them that we were together. Danielle…heard what you shouted at me.” Niall closes his eyes briefly. He doesn’t want to think about that particular day. “…..and she reported me.”

“Danielle?”

“Well, she’s Danielle to me. Or she was. She's the officer who shot you.”

“Danielle to you?” Niall asks. Liam just nods, looking down at the table. Niall’s brow furrows, inferring from his silence what Liam refuses to say.

Liam continues reluctantly. “They put me on leave right after you and the boys were arrested, and then they opened an investigation. And then….then I was fired. I work at the coffee shop now.”

There’s an unwelcome question lurking at the front of Niall’s mind. He doesn’t want to ask it. But he knows that he has to. “Why didn’t you tell them about us? I mean…why didn’t you tell them that we were sleeping together.”

Liam’s thought a lot about this moment. He’s thought a lot about the answer to this question. He thinks that he’s figured it out, but he doesn’t know how to explain it to Niall. “I wanted to keep it separate. I wanted to keep how I feel-how I felt-about you separate from the rest of the investigation. I thought that if I did, it would somehow make up for the fact that I was betraying you. Niall, I lo-”

Niall slams his fist down on the table, spurred into movement by his anger. “Don’t you _dare_ fucking say that to me, Liam _Payne_ ,” he spits out. Liam jerks back, startled. “That’s your real name, right? Don’t you dare fucking tell me you loved me.”

Liam feels panic prickle at his scalp and opens his mouth to reply. “No,” Niall snarls, jabbing a finger at him as if to fix him in his spot. “You don’t get to talk yet. I have more questions for you.” Now that the dam has been breached, all of the emotions that Niall has kept bottled up for the past two years come gushing out along with all of his unanswered questions. “Why the _fuck_ am I sitting across from you at a bloody pub drinking a Guinness while Zayn and Louis will be rotting away in prison for at least another fifteen years?”

Liam blinks, overwhelmed by Niall’s sudden onslaught of words. “I….I lied. I lied under oath. To protect you.” Niall is temporarily stunned into silence. “I told the judge-I told everyone-that you weren’t actually Zayn’s bookie. I told them that you knew about the heroin, but that you weren’t helping Zayn launder his drug money through the bar. Because you _weren’t_! Not really!” Liam rambles. “You just kind of….pointed him in the right direction.” Niall still gives him no response. Liam takes a breath. “I also told them that you didn’t know about the guns. That way they couldn’t charge you as a part of a ‘criminal conspiracy’ and stick you with the exact same sentence as Zayn and Louis. It’s…it’s not like it was your idea to smuggle those guns.” Liam stops, and looks down at his folded hands. Niall still sits quietly, as if frozen to his seat.

“I turned you in. I turned all of you in.” He risks a glance up a Niall, who stares back at him with vacant eyes. “I couldn’t-” Liam’s voice breaks. He blinks back his tears furiously and manages to choke out the rest of his sentence. “I couldn’t let them lock you away for the rest of your life because of me.” He feels a hand close around his wrist, and he looks up, startled, and right into those blue eyes that he had missed so much.

“Hey. Liam. Don’t…don’t cry. It’s okay.” But Liam, blinking up at Niall through his tear-filled eye lashes, knows that it’s not okay. That it will probably never be okay. Niall’s hand snakes up from his wrist to the feather tattooed on his forearm. Niall brushes at it lightly with his fingers before dropping his hand back down and rubbing his thumb in soothing circles around the inside of Liam’s wrist. Liam had never even dreamed that Niall would ever touch him again. He can barely breathe. “Let’s get out of here. Can you drive?” Niall asks, his voice low.

Liam nods, not trusting himself to speak, and reaches blindly into his pocket to throw a couple of bills onto the table. The two stand and walk out of the door to the truck, Niall’s fingers still loosely circled about Liam’s wrist. He only removes them when it’s clear that Liam needs both of his hands to drive stick shift. Liam curses the inventor of the automobile to high heaven before he feels Niall’s hand clasp lightly over his knee, instead. Liam’s stomach bunches up into knots, but he wills himself not to read anything into the gesture. Niall has always been touchy feely, and he’s been surrounded by men too afraid to even look at him for the past four years. Of course he’s lonely. Of course he presses his fingers into Liam’s kneecap like that. Or at least that’s what Liam tells himself, because the alternative is too terrifying to consider.

Liam’s new flat is still close to Moe’s Coffee House, yet far enough away from the crash pad that served as his flat while he was undercover that he doesn’t have to pass by that damned building every day. Not that he doesn’t think about Niall every day anyway. The drive from the pub is a blur, since Liam is slightly drunk on the heady combination of three beers and Niall’s touch on his leg. He’s not quite sure how they make it to his flat, but then he’s closing the front door behind them and turning to look at Niall.  
Liam waits, his muscles impossibly tense and his heart thrumming in his throat. The only sound he can hear is the roar of blood in his ears. Niall slowly moves forward, easing into his personal space. Liam is fleetingly reminded of their first kiss, of how Niall had swayed forward just like that before pressing him back into his door and biting down onto his bottom lip. Liam feels the sudden urge to close his eyes, overwhelmed by Niall’s proximity. He forces them to remain open. He wants to keep looking into Niall’s eyes for as long as Niall will let him.

Niall reaches a hand out to Liam’s face, but then stops, his palm hovering between them. Liam gives him what he hopes is an encouraging look, and Niall reaches all the way to brush the last of Liam’s tears off of his cheeks. Niall slides his fingers down a little further, resting them lightly on Liam’s lips. “Can I…can I kiss you?” Niall’s voice, suddenly rough and husky, causes something in Liam’s to chest squeeze painfully.

“Yeah,” Liam says breathily. He thinks that he might pass out. Niall leans forward (still so slowly) and stops inches, no millimeters, from Liam’s lips. And then Liam can’t stand it anymore. He reaches out, buries his both of his hands in that unfamiliar dark, shaggy hair and yanks Niall towards him, kissing him so fiercely that he surprises even himself. Niall slides his hands up Liam’s chest, rubbing gently up and down as he allows Liam to kiss him. Liam notices that Niall isn’t reciprocating the kiss, and drops his hands from the other boy’s hair. He steps back, holding his hands up. Niall bunches his fists in Liam’s shirt to prevent him from sliding away any further. “Sorry,” gasps Liam, struggling to breathe calmly. “I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s okay. Just…..slower, yeah? This is…a lot.” Liam nods feebly in agreement, knowing that Niall can feel his heart pounding away underneath his hand.

Niall gives Liam small, reassuring smile (that still looks a little sad, thinks Liam) and finally leans in all of the way, pulling Liam gently against him with the fists that he’s left curled in the other man’s shirt. This time, Liam allows his eyes to shut at the first touch of Niall’s lips on his, and he sighs into the kiss as his whole body slowly relaxes. He feels Niall’s mouth quirk up into a smile.

They kiss like that for what seems like an eternity, and then Niall is swiping at Liam’s bottom lip with his tongue, turning the knots in Liam’s stomach into a rising wall of heat and desire and love. He opens his mouth, letting Niall deftly slip his tongue in, and then Niall is pressing even closer, rising up on his toes to throw his arms around Liam’s neck. Reflexively, Liam grabs Niall’s hips. He feels Niall jolt against him in surprise and he flattens his palms apologetically against Niall’s side. It’s strange, relearning each other like this after four years. Their bodies have changed, they have changed, and their relationship has changed irrevocably.

Liam lets Niall kiss him for a few more minutes, then, suddenly impatient again, experimentally slides his hands down to Niall’s ass, squeezing gently. The moan that rips its way out of Niall’s chest startles them both, and Niall pulls his mouth reluctantly away from Liam. He keeps his arms around Liam though, and Liam doesn’t move his hands from Niall’s ass.

Niall looks at Liam, his pupils blown wide. “So much for slow. Should we….? Are we sure that this is a good idea?”

“No.” Liam doesn’t trust himself with more than one word.

Niall shakes his head, as if he’s trying to clear water out of his ears. He grabs Liam’s jaw to pull his mouth back to his own. “Fuck it.” And then Niall is passionately kissing Liam, moaning again into the other man’s open mouth. Liam’s head swims, and he tightens his hold on Niall to stop himself from falling over. Niall pulls back slightly, only to reattach his mouth to Liam’s neck, the hand not possessively holding on to Liam’s jaw dropping down to clasp Liam’s broad shoulder. He uses the hand still on Liam’s neck to tilt his head back as he kisses down his neck, stopping to suck at his most sensitive spot. How had Niall remembered that? Niall tightens his hand on Liam’s shoulder in acknowledgement when he shivers under his touch and then bites down gently on that spot, smoothing his tongue over the irritated flesh.

Liam has always enjoyed Niall’s dominance, but he doesn’t like that he’s making him come undone so quickly and so easily after all of this time. He doesn’t want Niall to have complete control over the situation. So he pulls away, putting space between then again. “Bedroom?” His voice is raspy and rough with want.

“No, not yet.” Niall gasps back. Liam smiles, gratified to see the tables turned, and leans forward to bite down on Niall’s lip. His hands come up to rest at Niall’s collar, and he begins to unbutton Niall’s shirt, flicking the buttons open and gradually pulling the shirt from Niall’s shoulders. Liam stops for a beat when the mass of still-pink scar tissue on Niall’s abdomen is exposed, and runs his finger across it gently.

“Niall-”

Niall ignores him as he drops his hands to hem of Liam’s t shirt, roughly yanking it up over his head. He wants to see more of Liam, see all of his tanned skin, see those ridiculously perfect abs that he lusted over for so long. He runs a careful hand down Liam’s bare arm, wraps his fingers around his wrist much like he had in the pub, and lifts Liam’s forearm to his mouth. Staring into Liam’s eyes, Niall drops his lips to the feather twining around Liam’s forearm and kisses it gently. Liam wraps his hand around Niall’s forearm, covering Niall’s matching tattoo with trembling fingers. And suddenly, everything feels heavier. This isn’t heated sex up against the door of Liam’s flat; this is so much more. Niall is so much more to him. _He loves Niall_.

Liam tries again. “ _Niall_ -” He begins to say insistently.

“No, no talking.”

“But we have to. That’s my fault.” Liam gestures towards the scar. “And we got these feathers when we were in love. We should talk about it.”

“ _No_. I need you. _Now_.” Liam’s eyes widen as he realizes what Niall means.

“But-”

“Please, Liam. I can’t-” Niall’s voice breaks. “I just need-”

Liam instinctively runs his fingers soothingly over Niall’s tattoo. “Okay. Okay. I’ve got stuff in the bedroom-”

“No, _now_.”

Liam struggles to get out a full sentence. It’s almost impossible to look away from Niall’s eyes, burning with heat and hate and hurt and hope and so many other things. “ _No_ , I’m _going_ to grab the lube. We don’t have to have sex in the bedroom, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Maybe I want you to hurt me,” Niall grits out, and leans in to kiss him. Liam jerks away and hops over to his bedroom. He doesn’t have a reply for that.

Niall lets out a frustrated huff and flops down onto the ground, stretching out on his back. He throws and arm across his eyes and wills his breathing to slow down. _Shit_ , he’s _painfully_ hard.

Liam returns from the bedroom, foil packet and bottle of lube in hand. He shucks his jeans, and then his boxers, and then crouches down to do the same for Niall. For a beat, they just stare at each other. And then Liam’s solid, warm weight is on top of Niall and he’s groaning into his mouth, his hands all over Niall’s body. Niall is overwhelmed by the press of Liam’s body, of his hands and his mouth. After that, Niall’s wish comes true. There’s no talking.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Bigger tha’ I remember,” Niall slurs. Liam never forgot how thick Niall's brogue sounds after sex.

“ _That’s_ what you’re thinking about right now?”

“Yes. Maybe.” There’s a moment of silence and then….. “No.”

Liam waits patiently. Finally, Niall softly, hesitantly asks, “Was there anyone else?”

Liam sighs and rolls over, enjoying the cool press of the linoleum against his back. “No.”

“ _No_?”

“I couldn’t. I…tried. Once. About a year after they put you away. And I…I just couldn’t do it.”

“You didn’t have sex for _four years_?”

“Neither did you.”

“Yeah, but….” Niall trails off. Liam sneaks a glance at him, but Niall’s eyes are trained on the ceiling and his face is unreadable.

“I thought about you a lot,” Liam says.

This turn, it’s Niall’s turn to sigh. He turns over, curling into Liam’s side as his eyes drift shut. “’M not movin’,” he mumbles into Liam’s chest, seemingly done with their conversation. “Gonna sleep righ’ here.”

“You alright?” Liam murmurs back. He’d asked earlier, several times, when they were still panting and sweaty, but he can’t stop himself from asking again.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Liam snorts and ruffles his hair. Still the same Niall. They’re quiet for a while, the minutes sliding by in a comfortable silence, and then Liam forces himself to say what he’s wanted to say since he first saw Niall outside of the prison. “I know you didn’t want me to say this earlier….but I really do love you, Niall. I was never lying to you when I told you that.” There’s no sound from Niall for several seconds, and Liam thinks that he may have already fallen sleep. He was always quick to do so.

Then he feels Niall’s hand clench tightly at his bicep.

“I love you too.”

Liam falls asleep on the floor of his living room, holding the man he loves in his arms, and thinks that it’s too good to be true.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

When Liam wakes up, he’s right. He’s alone in his flat. There’s a note next to his head, sloppily scrawled on the back of the one of his shopping lists.

 _Liam_. _I thought I could do this_. _I can’t_. _I’m sorry_. _Niall_.

He’d just signed it Niall. No “love,” no “sincerely yours.” Liam crumples the note in his fist and stands up. He staggers towards his bedroom and collapses, still naked, into his bed. He pulls the covers over his head and presses his face into his pillows. The tears finally come two hours later, and they don’t stop for many more hours after that.


	21. The End of the Tracks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last, the end. I have LOVED writing this story, and I am so in love with how it turned out. I hope you are too. Thanks for reading! I'm currently working on a Ziall prequel to this fic. The first two chapters are up on my account!

_Two years later_.

Liam yawns and scrubs at his face. He really hates working the opening shift at the coffee shop. Getting to work at 4 am in order to prepare for the morning rush is ridiculous. Oh well. Someone has to do it. And it’s almost 11 am now, so he can go back to his flat soon. As Liam pulls a pot of freshly brewed coffee away from the machine, he hears the bell on the door tinkling to announce the presence of someone else in the shop. Liam frowns to himself. Bit early for the lunch crowd, he thinks. “One moment, please.”

“Liam.”

He knows that voice. He just didn’t think that he would ever hear it again. Liam whirls around from the coffee maker. His ears aren’t playing tricks on him; Niall Horan is standing in front of him at the counter. Liam promptly drops the pot of coffee. It shatters, sending scalding hot coffee and shards of glass all over the floor. Not noticing that he’s splashed hot coffee down the front of his khakis, Liam stares, frozen, at Niall. Niall stares back, biting at his lip. _He always does that when he’s nervous_. Liam foggily wonders where that sudden thought comes from.

Niall speaks again when it’s clear that Liam isn’t going to. “I’ve rehearsed this in head over and over, but I’m still not sure what to say.” He pauses and scratches at the back of his head. “I….uh, I brought you flowers.” He brings a bouquet out from behind his back and offers it to Liam. “I know….I know that it’s not nearly enough. It was shitty of me to leave you like that……but I just…I had to sort some things out first, you know?” Liam hesitantly reaches out to take the bouquet. He’s still not entirely sure that he isn’t imagining Niall. He’s thought about this moment, about Niall coming back to him, so many times that the reality of Niall standing right in front of him hasn’t quite sunk in. In all of his dreams, he had never thought that Niall would actually ever come back.

“I wanted to bring flowers to you at Moe’s because that’s what I did when we first got together.” Liam finally moves, nodding. Of course he remembers that. The morning that Niall had shown up to the coffee shop with flowers is one of his favorite memories.

Moe himself, the owner of the eponymous coffee shop, pokes his around the corner, shattering the stillness of the moment. “Liam! Clean that-” The rest of his sentence dies in his throat as he recognizes the blonde. He watches enough TV to know who this is, even six years after the fact. He knows what Liam had been mixed up in when he first started working at the shop. “Lunch break,” he squawks out. Liam breaks eye contact with Niall and turns to look questioningly at him. It’s 10:30 am. “Errr…you have a lunch break, right? Take a break. Actually, just go home. Your shift is almost over anyway.” Liam nods and mechanically begins to remove his apron. Moe hesitates and then clears his throat, catching the attention of both men. “Unless…unless, Liam, you want me to call the…” he trails off awkwardly.

“Police?” Liam supplies, his lips twisting up into a sardonic smile. “No, it’s fine.” He hangs his apron on a hook behind the counter and walks out of the coffee shop, still clutching the bouquet. Niall follows him. Liam stops when they round the corner, and pulls a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He offers it to Niall, who takes one, his eyes wide.

“You never smoke.”

“I used to. A long time ago. Before I met you.” Liam doesn’t explain why he’s taken it up again. He doesn’t want to tell Niall how the nicotine stops him from shaking, how it clears his always foggy mind, how it prevents him from waking up screaming in the middle of the night, clutching for a man who’s no longer in his bed or in his life. “I need a cigarette to have this conversation.” Cradling the bouquet in the crook of his elbow, he pulls out his lighter. He lights his cigarette, and then leans forward to do the same to Niall’s. Having his fingers so close to Niall’s face is torture. Liam leans back against the wall, pulling away from Niall as fast as he can. Niall looks at him out of the corner of his eyes, waiting for him to speak. Liam takes a couple of long drags on his cigarette, trying to calm his nerves, and then does so.

“So.”

“So.”

“You came back.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t think that you would.” Liam’s voice almost breaks on that last phrase, but he manages to just barely keep himself together. _Don’t let the bastard see you cry again_ , he silently scolds himself.

Niall makes as if to move towards him, but then thinks better of it. “I didn’t want to leave, Liam. But I couldn’t stay.”

Liam nods, even though he doesn’t understand. He changes the subject. “Blonde,” he says, jutting his chin towards Niall’s hair.

“What? Oh. Yeah.” Silence falls between them. Neither of them is willing to break it, and neither is quite sure how to.

“Well.” Liam finishes his cigarette and drops it on the ground, grinding it out against the pavement with his heel. Niall copies his movement. “This has been thrilling, but I-”

Niall lunges forward to block his path. “No, don’t go. I…I came back for you, Liam. I left because I couldn’t get out of prison and then fall right back into your arms. Especially since you were the one who put me there.”

Liam hangs his head, his free hand coming up to cover his eyes. Niall, unrelenting, reaches up to pull his hand away and holds it in his own. “Hey, I know. It’s okay. You did what you thought you had to do. I don’t blame you for that anymore.” Liam’s hand twitches in his grasp. “I needed some time to myself. That’s all. And now I’m ready-”

“Maybe I’m not,” Liam snarls, ripping his hand out of Niall’s. Niall jerks back in surprise. “Did you ever think of that, Niall?” His name sounds like a curse word in Liam’s mouth. “You just…you _fucked_ me and then you just left. You didn’t even say good bye. You left me a bloody note on the back of a shopping list. Do you know how that made me feel, Niall?” His name, uttered with scorn again.

“Liam, I’m sorry. But you have to understand-”

“No. I don’t. I shouldn’t have gone to pick you up from prison and taken you to the pub. You never should have gotten into my truck. You shouldn’t have given me hope-” And then Liam’s voice finally does break.

Niall tentatively starts forward, fingers reaching towards Liam and tears pooling in his own eyes at the sight of Liam’s distraught face. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t have anything to say, really. “Oh, Liam.” He pulls Liam into his arms, sighing in relief when the other man doesn’t pull away. Liam buries his head in Niall’s shoulder, and then, after a brief pause, wraps his arms around the smaller man’s back. Liam’s not sure how long they stand like that in the alley, slowly rocking back and forth, their bodies pressed tightly together. The bouquet drops to the ground, forgotten.

Niall finally pulls back, reaching down to gently grasp Liam’s face. “Liam, look at me.” Liam snuffles and complies. “I’m sorry,” Niall murmurs, looking him earnestly in the eyes.

Liam blinks the last of his tears away. “Me too.” He doesn’t have to clarify what he’s sorry about. Niall leans in to his forehead and Liam’s eyes flutter shut.

“I want to be with you, Liam. Like, really _be_ with you. We could do it properly this time. Just me and you.”

“I don’t know if we can-”

“Of course we can. We both apologized. Do you forgive me, Liam?” Liam nods in response, not trusting himself to speak. “And I forgive you. There. Simple as that.”

“It’s not that simple, Niall. I put your two best friends in prison! I was fucking _lying_ to you the entire time you knew me.-”

Niall tightens his grip on Liam’s face, forcing him to look into his eyes. “It could be. It could be that simple if you just let it.” Liam slides his hands up to meet Niall’s, and pulls them gently away from his face. He keeps Niall’s hands tight in his own, and their joined hands drop in the space between them. Niall slides one hand up to Liam’s forearm, wrapping his fingers around the feather tattoo that he knows is hidden by Liam’s white button down. “It could be as simple as this. I love you, and you love me. That’s it.”

“I don’t know-”

“Can we at least try? That’s all I’m asking, Liam.”

Liam breathes out shakily, looks down at where Niall is holding his arm, and finally makes up his mind. There’s a long pause and then… “Yeah. Okay.”

The smile that spreads across Niall’s face is radiant, and Liam feels his heart leap up into his throat in response.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

 _Some years later_.

“Niall! Have you seen my blue tie?” Niall looks up from his desk, absently rubbing at his stomach. The damned bullet scar still hurts every now and then.

“No. Is it not in the closet with the rest of your ties?” he shouts back.

“No!” Liam’s panicked voice floats back to him from somewhere else in their house. “I can’t find it!”

“Just wear another one. What about the gray one?”

Liam’s head pops around the door of Niall’s office, his eyes narrowed accusingly. “I have to wear the blu one. I want to look my best!”

Niall scoffs at him. “I hardly think that the social worker is going to care about what color tie you have on. She’ll probably just be impressed that you’re wearing a tie at all and that your tatts are covered.”

“Are you going to wear a tie?”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but I will if it’ll stop you from shitting yourself.”

Liam sniffs haughtily back at him. “I just want us to look our best!”

“I know, I know,” Niall sighs as he gets up from his desk. He walks over to Liam and carefully straightens his collar. “We’re going to look fine. More importantly, we’re going to be great dads. And the social worker will see that, okay love?”

“Okay.” Liam rubs distractedly at his cropped hair. “I’m going to go set out some food. Or something. Yeah.” He clears his throat. “You know, I was thinking the other day-”

“Shocker.”

“Shut up. I was thinking,” Liam continues. “About what we’re going to tell our future daughter-or son-when she or he asks how me met.”

Niall grins, his teeth glinting. “We’ll just tell the little tyke that we met at a bar. That’s not exactly a lie…”

Liam laughs. “No, not exactly.” Grinning to himself, he turns to leave and then pauses to look back at Niall. “I love you, you know.”

Niall rolls his eyes and smacks his husband on the ass. “I know. I love you too, you maniac.” Liam walks off to obsessively arrange, and then rearrange, their living room. Niall sits down at his desk and turns back to the envelope sitting on the desk.

He finishes addressing it, and reaches across his desk to grab a picture. It’s a photograph of him and Liam, arms wrapped around each other as they stand in front of their newly opened restaurant and karaoke bar. The sign above them reads “The End of the Tracks.” Zayn had managed to transfer the ownership of The Station to Paul before he had been indicted, not wanting the government to gain possession of it. Paul had then sold the bar and sent the funds from the sale to Niall, even though he’d long since learned about Zayn’s plan to unseat him. Say what you wanted to about the crime boss, but he was not without honor. It had only been with the money he had sent that Niall had been able to buy two plane tickets to Australia, and then, later, a house and The End of the Tracks.

Niall flips the picture over, pauses for a moment, and then scrawls out a message on the back. It’s short, only three sentences. _Zayn_. _I will always miss you, and I will always think of you, Harry, and Louis as my family_. _Liam and I are building a new family now_. _I’m finally happy_. _Niall_. Niall folds the picture into the envelope and then seals it. He places a stamp in the corner and then neatly tucks it into his desk drawer. He’ll mail it to the prison later. He stands up, joints creaking and abdomen twitching. _Damn that bullet_. A thought occurs to him. “Hey, Liam. Did you check the bathroom for your tie?”

 _fin_.


End file.
